


Side Effects

by motelsixxx



Category: HLVRAI - Fandom, Half-Life
Genre: Biting, Blow Jobs, Cuddling & Snuggling, Dream Sex, Hair-pulling, Hand Jobs, He/Himrey, Heavy Petting, M/M, No beta we die like mne, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Potions, Praise Kink, Scent Kink, dogboy gordon, is this cuddling. can I call this cuddling. I'm going to call it cuddling
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-12-01
Updated: 2021-01-30
Packaged: 2021-03-09 18:55:59
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 21,559
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27811111
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/motelsixxx/pseuds/motelsixxx
Summary: Potions are a gamble on the best of days, and Gordon is not having the best of days.
Relationships: Benrey/Gordon Freeman
Comments: 42
Kudos: 345





	1. A Potion is Consumed and the Results Will Not Surprise the Reader

**Author's Note:**

> You know the drill, don't show this to minors or rtv members.

Gordon Freeman walks into the Black Mesa science facility several minutes late as usual, holding a coffee, and absolutely not feeling up to another day of organizing files and crunching menial numbers. It had been a few months since the resonance cascade, and apparently the employee turnover at Black Mesa was a force to be reckoned with, as the hallways were completely repopulated with the usual scientists bustling around.

Gordon drifts through his day in a haze, not that his “work” required much of his attention lately. Noon couldn’t come soon enough, at least he could sulk while eating. A marked improvement. After sitting down with a shitty energy drink and overly crumbly granola bar, Gordon slips back into sulking about the problem occupying most of his brain as of late.  


Thankfully, Benrey made himself as scarce as was possible in the first few weeks of their tentative armistice, and in the few times Gordon ran into him in the kitchen, he was taken off guard at how easily banter came between them. It didn’t hurt that Benrey seemed downright apologetic at times, almost like he was trying to make it up to Gordon and the only way he knew how was to not be around him. Gordon might have even been enjoying Benrey’s company the few times they talked, not that he would admit it to himself. That wasn’t exactly a reassuring sign, and to be honest, it was what he was most worried about.  
However, over the last few days, Benrey had been making himself significantly less scarce than usual, and Gordon was about at the end of his metaphorical rope. He had fielded enough questions about human life this week to write a god damn book on it. Benrey seemed mostly unwilling to look up things himself, most likely just to further annoy Gordon. This particular morning, Benrey had asked “What’s a 401k?” and every time Gordon responded he requested the definition of a word Gordon had used in his explanation until Gordon left the apartment in a huff. As much as Gordon disliked Black Mesa, he was dreading going home at the end of the day more.  


“Oh! Mr. Freeman! Just the man I wanted to see!” A chipper voice comes from the entrance to the breakroom, snapping Gordon out of his ill-tempered ruminations.  


“Ah, hi Darnold. How’s it going?”  


“Much better now you’re here!”  


“Yeah? Why’s’ that.” Gordon sighs and slumps down even further in his uncomfortable break room chair as Darnold takes a seat across the table from him.  


“Well, the last few days I’ve been… Working on something-” Darnold’s grin is downright mischievous as he digs in his lab coat pocket and produces a ridiculously small vial. The liquid inside shifts disconcertingly in the light, pearlescent colors swirling together but not combining.  


“-and you’re the only person to make it through one of my potions… erm… in one piece!”  


Gordon looks from the vial to Darnold’s optimistic smile, and back to the vial.  


“And what makes you think it wasn’t dumb luck?”  


“Because before you drank the potion that grew back your arm- “  


“Gave me a gun for an arm” Gordon interrupts.  


“Well, let’s agree to disagree on that. Anyway, as I was saying, before you drank that potion, it had never worked that well on any other subjects before! You were my first real success! It must be something to do with your… your… great genetics?”  


“I highly doubt that.”  


“Regardless, I have a funny feeling this is going to work exactly as intended!” Darnold places the vial on the table between them and gives it an encouraging scooch toward Gordon.  


“Woah, woah, woah. What is the “intended” result exactly.”  


“That’s the best part! It’s a mystery potion! The results are completely random, but don’t worry, they’re guaranteed non-lethal!”  


“How can they be guaranteed non-lethal if they’re random. Who’s to say my heart and liver wont swap places.”  


“Oh. I- erm… That’s highly unlikely, Mr. Freeman. Statistically speaking it’s more likely to make cosmetic changes than uh, swap your guts around. And, and! I have one to reverse it if it turns out to be a bit more… potent than expected!” Darnold reaches into his pocket again and pulls out a vial containing a liquid so dark, it seems to ooze shadows through the glass.  


Gordon considers the potion in front of him for a few seconds, calculating how likely it was that it would make him sick enough to get paid leave. This incident seems work-related enough to pull that card, he concludes.  


“Hey, fuck it y’know? What’s the worst that could happen. I could use a little spice in my life.”  


“I’m so happy to hear that, Mr. Freeman! Well, go ahead, get to slurping!”  


The second Gordon downs the vial, his vision starts to swim. Probably not a great sign.  


“Oh! Oh man Mr. Freeman, are you, uh, are you okay?”  


Starting as a dull pain in the back of his skull, but quickly growing sharper, Gordon fully slumps over the breakroom table, trying to recover some semblance of clear-headedness.  


“Ugh, just give me a second, man. Gordon’s hurtin’.”  


“Erm… it shouldn’t hurt, Mr. Freeman. Do you… Do you want the other potion…?”  


After a few seconds of lying face-down on the table, the splitting headache fades just as quickly as it came, and Gordon feels composed enough to sit up and shake it off.  


“No, I’m… I’m fine, I think. No idea what it changed. Anything look different about me? Are my eyes different colors?”  


Uh oh. Darnold is covering his mouth with his hand and laughing. Hard. And his eyes are fixed on the top of Gordon’s head. That can’t be a good sign. Reaching a hand up to feel his head, it doesn’t take more than a second for Gordon to register exactly what the potion had done.  


“Tell me this doesn’t look like what it feels like.”  


Darnold is still laughing too hard to respond.  


“Why did it give me fucking DOG EARS, Darnold.”  


“I- oh Mr. Freeman this is fantastic.”  


“Tell me exactly how this is ‘fantastic’!?”  


Gordon jumps up from where he was sitting and regrets it immediately. Now in view is a small tail, poking out from his lab coat.  


Darnold looks positively delighted.  


“Gordon this is amazing! Hold on, can you, can you move them?”  


“I’m a little preoccupied right now, man! Could you please give me the fucking antidote or whatever, I’m done with weird shit like this.” Gordon’s freaking out, pacing around the break room and rubbing at his new ears. It definitely felt really good to scritch behind them, but he wasn’t in any state to appreciate it.  


Darnold visibly cringes away as he offers the dark vial to Gordon, who downs it immediately. The room goes quiet for a minute.  


“Why aren’t they going away man. Why are they still here.”  


“Oh no, I- er. I didn’t think you’d want to undo it so I… I may have exaggerated my confidence in the reversal potion. But don’t worry! I just need a couple days to figure something out!”  


“A couple days? Christ Darnold, you’ve gotta be kidding me.” Gordon flops despairingly back down into his chair and buries his face in his hands. If his mood this morning was foul, now he’s practically simmering.  


“It’ll be fine Gordon! All you have to do is take a couple days off, and when you come back, I’ll be done with the reversal potion and you’ll be fine!”  


“Easy for you to say.”  


“You should be glad this was a little prank between friends! If this were official Black Mesa business, you’d technically be categorized as a specimen and you wouldn’t have the option to leave!”  


“Point taken. I’ll just… I guess I’ll finish up today and head home.”  


“Sounds good Mr. Freeman! And try to have a little fun with it, won’t you? You have to admit it’s pretty funny!”  


“I don’t have to admit anything, but I guess it is a little funny.”  


“Well, thanks for that Gordon! I’ve got to head back to work now!” Darnold backs out of the break room with a little wave “Call me if any more symptoms develop!”  


The rest of the day passes uneventfully. Either nobody noticed Gordon keeping his hat on for the rest of the day, or nobody cared.

Gordon tries to enter the apartment quietly, hoping against hope that Benrey is in his room or vegetating on the couch. No such luck, and he’s greeted with the sight of Benrey sitting cross-legged in front of the open fridge, staring into it blankly.

“Hey Benrey. What… uh… what’cha up to, buddy?”  
Benrey doesn’t look away from the fridge, or physically respond to Gordon's presence in the slightest.

“Yooo you got a lil fuckin… tail. Is that normal? New human DLC released?”

“Y’know a hello wouldn’t hurt. And no, Benrey. As a matter of fact, having a tail is not a fucking ‘normal human thing’”, Gordon snaps.  
All of a sudden, Benrey is standing, and he’s already way too close to Gordon’s face.

“Why’d you have a beanie on inside bro, too cold for you? Lil’ weirdo wearing a hat inside?”

“Wha- no, fuck off man I just want to go to bed.” Oh no. That came out way whinier than Gordon had intended.

Gordon tries to duck around Benrey, but on the way, Benrey snags Gordon’s hat, and sure enough, there’s his little dog ears. Gordon briefly considers making a break for his room, if not for the fact that he knows all too well how fast Benrey can be when he wants to.

“haHA got a whole new look huh? Not just the tail? Nice. I get it.”

“It was a fuckin accident at work man and besides, I..."

Gordon trails off, distractedly looking around the room.  
“…did you buy an air freshener or something? Room spray maybe?”

“Huh?”  


“You know what I’m talking about. Why does it smell so good in here?”  


“No clue. Have fun figuring that one out, ‘cause I’m not helping”  


Benrey shrugs and turns on his heel, headed for the living room and Gordon relaxes a bit. Benrey must have lost interest in tormenting him for the time being. Back to the matter at hand.  


Gordon can’t pinpoint it exactly, but it smelled warm and… Soft? No, that can’t be right, those aren’t smells. Despite that fact, his house smells unmistakably warm and soft. After pacing around the couple rooms in his apartment trying fruitlessly to find the source of the smell, Gordon ends up flopping down on the couch next to Benrey. The smell is more concentrated out here, but Gordon has resolved to ignore it. “Don’t draw attention to it, it’s already weird enough” his brain supplies unhelpfully.  


“Gordon dogman lost the trail?” Benrey mumbles distractedly. He’s holding a ps3 controller and focusing intently on pressing buttons in a specific order on the main menu screen of Heavenly Sword. It looks like whatever he’s trying to do isn’t working.  


“Oh, fuck off Benrey. Let me have the tv, I’ve had a hell of a day.”  


“No way bro. I gotta do this right. I’ve been trying all day. Gonna stop me when I’m just hitting my groove? Ruin all my progress?”  


“Progress? Oh god forbid I ruin your fucking progress, right?”  


Gordon’s ears are pinned back to his head and he feels an unfamiliar snarl edging into his voice. That got Benrey’s attention at least. He looks almost surprised.  


“Yeesh man, it’s all yours, if you want it that bad.” Benrey’s eyes dart uncomfortably towards the hallway to his room.  


“No, it’s fine, I didn’t want to relax anyway.” Gordon jumps up and storms off to his room before Benrey can respond. As he slams his door, logically he knows he has no reason to be that upset, but he can’t feel anything but mad at the moment.  


Leaning back against his door, Gordon distantly notices that his own room doesn’t smell nearly as nice.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've been hit with the dogboy Gordon curse and it's forced me to write the first fanfic of my life... Next chapter should be out pretty soon, considering how wild I am about this. Gonna do my best to earn that E rating, I promise. Feel free to give me writing tips, I welcome any help!


	2. Cold Days and Colder Nights

When Gordon wakes up on the first even slightly chilly day in months, it's so fucking cold in his apartment, he feels like he can almost see his breath. The central heating system’s out, leaving only a couple dusty old space heaters and one heated blanket to fight over. While it’s not FRIGID by any means, it’s not exactly a comfortable temperature to relax in, and as Gordon staggers out to the kitchen for coffee the last thing he wanted to see was an empty coffee tin.  


It had been a week and a half since the dog-ification fiasco, and there was still no word from Darnold on the reversal potion. Not that Gordon would complain about a little vacation, and he’s acclimated to his sharper sense of smell too. But he was getting tired of hiding the tail and ears.  


He had figured out what the smell was, too. Fucking Benrey of all things. Gordon had decided to chalk it up to loneliness and never think about it again. He should go out more. Yeah, that sounded about right. Ignore how that fuzzy feeling in his brain when he talks to Benrey isn’t a new development. The thought hasn’t even crossed his mind. Gordon’s never thought about how nice Benrey’s laugh is, or how Benrey is definitely strong enough to pick him up, or even how downright big Benrey is. Nope, he’s never thought about any of that. Not once.  


After a painfully windy and thoroughly miserable walk to the grocery store, Gordon returns home with the most boring groceries ever purchased and settles into a comically uneventful day of scrolling mindlessly through every social media site he could think of. At around what a normal person would consider bedtime, Gordon finally gets up for a stretch and ventures back out into the living room for a change of scenery.  


“Finally awake? Slept pretty late, huh?”  


Benrey’s posted on the couch, as he usually is at night, playing something on the tv.  


“I’ve been awake man; I went to the store? Didn’t you notice I got more coffee? After someone drank it all?”  


“Ate.”  


“Wha- you ATE the coffee grounds?”  


“They taste better than the other bland ass foods you have here.”  


Gordon decides not to dignify that with a response, and flops down on the couch opposite Benrey, who tosses him a wiimote.  


“C’mon bro it’s more fun with two.”  


“Okay, but no cheating this time. And don’t hog the blanket, give me some.”  


\--

A couple rounds of Mario kart later, and after getting progressively closer to Benrey on the couch in an attempt to get more of the blanket, Gordon’s getting tired.  


"Hey, I'm gonna tap out for now."  


"Cause you lost so bad, huh? Gonna throw a fit? Break the tv with your controller cause you’re not wearing the wrist strap?"  


"No B- hey I got second in every race. And you were cheating. I’m just tired."  


"Whatever. Go to bed Gordon babyman. Big fuckin baby gonna go cry in his room because he lost at Mario cars?"  


Benrey’s eyes remain fixed on the screen. He’s starting up another race, koopa cape, but for some reason, all the NPCs are Luigi.  


"Mario kart. And yeah, that was the plan, I mean, not the crying part. But I’m not leaving the blanket with you.”  


Gordon gives a halfhearted tug on the blanket to emphasize his point. The blanket doesn’t move.  


"Well I'm not letting you take it.”  


“Wh-This is my house man. My fucking blanket.”  


“Yeah, yeah, yeah, whatever. I’ll go fuck myself, I guess. I’ll go freeze and die and lose at Mario cars because my hands are too frostbitten to hold the controller. Sounds like that’s what you want.”  


Gordon sighs exasperatedly. It's hard to be too mad when he's this tired.  


"Y'know what? Fine. I don't care. I'll sleep out here."  


"You sure my hardcore gaming skills won't keep you up?" Benrey deadpans. He clearly couldn’t be less concerned about keeping Gordon up.  
"Somehow I think I'll manage"  


Gordon busies himself with getting comfortable next to Benrey, not a very difficult task, considering his couch was the one piece of furniture not found at a closing sale. Everyone splurges on one piece of furniture.  


They're not touching, but it's dangerously close. The few inches between them might as well be the fucking Grand Canyon for as able or willing as either was to close the gap.  


Gordon dozes off almost immediately, leaving Benrey playing Mario kart alone and distractedly glancing to the side at Gordon’s sleeping face. God DAMN he looked cute when he was sleeping, little dog ears twitching every couple minutes. Way more interesting than kicking the computer’s ass at Mario kart repeatedly, Benrey decided. Computers can’t be mad at you for cheating. Computers can’t get all flustered trying to beat you. No fun. Benrey stares at Gordon for… who knows how long. Plausible deniability, he figures. There was no way for Gordon to know how long Benrey’s eyes have been fixed on his face. He was just so interesting…  


After a while, Gordon stops moving so much, and settles into the couch, and by extension, Benrey, even more. Now with Gordon’s chest and shoulder flush with Benrey’s side, there was FAR too much body-to-body contact for Benrey to plead no homo if Gordon woke up and saw he hadn’t moved. Not that that mattered to Benrey.  


With little to no movement from Gordon, and no reason to leave, Benrey sets into a few rounds of Wii tennis. Motionless except for the occasional flick of his wrist to continue a volley. They sit like this for a while, and Benrey vaguely wonders if this is something normal humans do with each other.  


Until Gordon throws a leg over Benrey’s lap and cozies in even more, head resting on Benrey’s shoulder and tail thumping lightly against the couch.  


Benrey’s brain bluescreens for a second, and yeah, this feels like an appropriate time to leave, but with Gordon right there… it also feels like an excellent time to give his ears a little scritch. That’s not too far, is it? Gordon didn’t let Benrey touch his ears or tail normally, so Benrey had quickly turned it into a game of human keep-away. It didn’t seem to bother Gordon all that much, so Benrey figures it’s fine. He won, fair and square. Shouldn’t have let his guard down.  


Benrey goes in for a scritch, and Gordon’s ears are just as remarkably soft as they look. Though far better than that is the feeling of Gordon tilting his head into Benrey’s hand.  


So Benrey sets down the wiimote and gets to scratching both of Gordon’s ears, and Gordon’s tail wags even harder than before. It looks like he’s deep asleep though, anything he’s feeling is probably going right into his dream. Seems to be a nice one too, Benrey thinks. Gordon looks completely content, face flushed a very flattering shade of pink and, oh, hold on. Yep, Gordon’s grinding up against Benrey’s side, rolling his hips in stuttery little jerks. Benrey’s breath catches in his throat, brain going a mile a minute.  


If Gordon wakes up and sees that it’s Benrey rather than… well… whoever he’s dreaming about, he definitely won’t be happy. Might even kick Benrey out of his house. Unacceptable result. But on the other, far more appealing hand, he could just watch for a couple more seconds. Or minutes. Actually, if Benrey’s being honest with himself, he could watch this for hours. It’s fine, this is all completely fine. Gordon’s still asleep, hips are still going, but his breathing is starting to speed up a little, coming out as barely audible, breathy moans. This is fine.  


Then Gordon practically whines, a squeaky little sound from the back of his throat, and Benrey jerks away, scrambling off the couch and down the hallway to his room.  


Gordon slumps forward, blinking at the empty space that Benrey was just occupying. He's confused and a more than a little disappointed, as one often is when woken up from a pleasant dream. That quickly fades into a vacant dread as Gordon hears the door to Benrey’s room close forcefully, a couple faintly glowing orbs of purple sweet voice drifting slowly to the floor in his wake.  


Oh, he fucked up big time, didn’t he.  


Running a hand through his hair, Gordon takes stock of the situation. So yeah, he was clearly having a wet dream. Starring his roommate and… mortal enemy? (Friend? Best friend? He doesn’t even know what to call Benrey at this point)  


Who was inconveniently sitting on the couch directly next to him.  


Gordon groans and buries his face in his hands. What a way to wake up.  


He gets up from the couch unsteadily and heads for his room, fully prepared to wallow in misery until he falls asleep.  


God, it’s cold in there. Cold fuckin sheets, cold fuckin hands, cold, cold, cold. And so much worse than this morning, knowing Benrey’s probably in the next room over thinking about what a fucking creep he is.  


A little lightbulb flashes on in Gordon’s sleep and hormone addled head. Benrey’s warm. Can't have Benrey, obviously. Benrey SMELLS warm, and logically that’s the next best and most easily accessible substitute. And so, this is how Gordon ends up rifling through the laundry in the washer looking for one of Benrey’s shirts. It's not weird, he tells himself. Not weird. Just a weird side effect of the potion. And besides, it’s not like Benrey would notice. One and done. Start up the washer first thing in the morning and no harm no foul, Gordon thinks as he fishes out a grey t-shirt and scampers back to his room with it.  


Gordon flops down on his bed and gets comfortable on his side under the covers, holding Benrey’s t-shirt to his face. And yep, sure enough, there’s that familiar warm smell. It’s almost nice enough to wash away Gordon’s mortification over the couch fiasco, and more than nice enough to bring his attention back to the matter at hand. Squeezing his eyes shut, the feeling of a hand trailing down his chest and stomach combined with that intoxicating smell is almost enough for his brain to fill in the gaps and let him think it’s Benrey. Benrey’s hand tugging him off a little faster now, with a little twist at the tip, like he knew exactly how Gordon liked it. He finishes with a gasp, and flops over bonelessly, far too tired and comfortable to think about cleaning up at the moment.

This is fine. He’s fine.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter two and my brain’s still spinning!  
> wawawaaa it’s wild to think that people are reading this. Thank you so much for your comments and kudos, they mean a lot to me! <3


	3. Two Bedrooms, Both Alike in Dignity (or Lack Thereof)

The next morning, Gordon wakes up a mess, but feeling excessively content despite it.  
  
Until he remembers last night, and reality comes crashing back down on him like a bucket of ice water. Benrey, the couch, and worst of all, the fucking t shirt, still wrapped around his hand. Like a distress flag being raised for the last pathetic, dying scraps of his self-respect.  
  
Mortified, Gordon bundles the shirt up in his sheets, gets changed, shoves everything into his laundry hamper, and picks it up, heading for the laundry room. As soon as he rounds the corner to the kitchen, Gordon freezes. Benrey’s standing in the kitchen, staring blankly out a window and holding a can of soda.  
  
“Uhm, hi Benrey.”  
  
“Hey.”  
  
Gordon’s tail starts to tuck between his legs at Benrey’s choppy answer, and he wills it to stop. Not exactly the message he was trying to send right now. C’mon, get it together. Apology, he’s got to apologize, has to fix this somehow. Benrey takes a sip from the can he’s holding and continues looking out the window.  
  
“I’m- I’m really sorry about last night, man. That was… a shitty thing for me to… let happen. I hope it didn’t… uh… make you uncomfortable.” Gordon shifts his weight from side to side nervously. Something about apologizing to Benrey didn’t sit right with him. Maybe because Benrey still hadn’t formally apologized for everything he put Gordon through back at Black Mesa. But he still had to apologize. Whether or not he liked it, it was the right thing to do.  
  
“People don’t always have to accept your “apologies”, you know. Maybe it’s not fine this time, huh?”  
  
“It’s not like I did it on PURPOSE, man. Sometimes these things happen. Bad timing’s all it was.” Wrong tone, Gordon berates himself, you’re supposed to go for apologetic, not defensive.  
  
Benrey takes a gratingly loud sip from his soda and Gordon cringes.  
  
“I don’t have to say it’s ok if it’s not.”  
  
"Yeah, that's fine, I get it. I'm just saying I'm sorry, either way."  
  
"Sure. So what. Anything else you wanna say? I'm a little busy here."  
  
Gordon feels the start of a tension headache creeping into his temples. Why is he making this so fucking HARD?  
  
"Listen, I'm _really_ sorry, It won't happen again, ok? And besides, it's not like you've even tried to apologize for all the shit you've put me through." Okay, that was uncalled for, but Gordon couldn't help but throw it in.  
  
Benrey doesn't respond and that only makes Gordon's blood boil more.  
  
"Actually, yeah, how about you apologize for getting my fucking arm cut off? So I can say that's not okay?"  
  
“Maybe you should calm down.” Benrey takes another sip of his soda.  
  
“Can you put down your fucking soda and actually LISTEN to me? You never LISTEN.”, Gordon snarls, ears pinned flat to the back of his head. Yeah, maybe that was a bit of an overreaction but it's not like Benrey hasn't ever overreacted to something he's done.  
  
Benrey looks almost taken aback, but he does quietly set down his soda. Gordon considers that a win. Until Benrey looks at him with an unreadable expression and turns on his heel, walking out of the kitchen without another word. Leaving Gordon standing above his laundry basket wondering how he had managed to make this even worse.

\---  
  
It had been a week and a half. A week a half of nothing. Gordon hadn’t seen Benrey for two and a half insufferable fucking weeks since their argument in the kitchen. Fortunately, or more accurately, unfortunately, Benrey was still living in his apartment, and had still been leaving laundry in the washing machine, so sneaking out to snag a shirt had quickly become a guilt-laden nightly ritual. Gordon promised himself it’d be the last one every single time, but fuck, he couldn’t even sleep normally without them at this point. Gordon had worked through the different ways he could apologize so many times at this point, but none of them felt right, and he’s starting to realize why. How do you apologize for the way you’ve been treating someone from the first time you met? And also that one time you accidentally humped their leg on a couch? Hard to tell which warranted a bigger apology.  
  
Laying in bed, Gordon hashes through another unsatisfactory apology speech, and hopes he can figure it out soon.  
  
\---  
  
Gordon’s bundled up in a blanket on the couch playing a videogame. Whatever he’s playing isn’t particularly interesting, but he doesn’t feel the need to get up and do anything else. Until Benrey pops his head in the door.  
  
“Hey. Whatcha playin?”  
  
“I dunno. Some kind of JRPG, I think.”  
  
Gordon distantly wonders when Benrey had started talking to him again.  
  
“Huh. Looks boring as fuck.”, Benrey remarks, walking over to stand next to where Gordon’s sitting, and bending over to squint disapprovingly at the TV.  
  
Then Benrey leans over and kisses Gordon on the cheek.  
  
For about five seconds, Gordon’s mind is reeling. What kind of fucked up game is this? Oh god, this is payback for the couch thing, isn’t it? He doesn’t deserve this, of all things. This should constitute cruel and unusual punishment. And why does Benrey look so smug?  
  
“It’s a dream, bro. You’re in sleepytime land.”  
  
That would partially explain it, but Gordon’s not convinced this isn’t all part of Benrey’s plan to get back at him. Trick him into hammering the final nail in the coffin of their friendship. Well, at least this is better than the silent treatment. Marginally.  
  
“Fuck off, I don’t lucid dream or whatever it's called. You’re messing with me.”  
  
Gordon is feeling a bit off though, so he dredges up a memory from some bullshit website he read as a teenager about lucid dreaming and tries to read some text on-screen. Couldn’t hurt to check. Sure enough, it’s a garbled mess of nonsensical lines and dots. Turning back to Benrey, he blinks a couple times, and Benrey doesn’t disappear, just stays standing silently in front of him with that same smug grin.  
  
“If… If this is a dream, can you- I mean, do you want to… kissmeagainmaybe?” Gordon blurts out and immediately kicks himself. There are so many things wrong with that thought process. First, that’s a fatal conclusion to jump to if this isn’t a dream. Second; what, even in a dream, he doesn’t think things could possibly go his way for once? That’s definitely some kind of complex.  
  
Gordon’s too distracted by his own thoughts to notice the shock that flashes across Benrey’s face, and how quickly Benrey replaces it with an even smugger grin.  
  
“Whas’ that? You gotta speak upppp.”, Benrey drawls, crossing his arms expectantly.  
  
“Do you want to like. Kiss some more?” Gordon's face is burning. Yeah, he’s had dreams about Benrey before, but they had always been… faster. And there certainly wasn’t much conversation or shy kissing going on.  
  
“If you wanted to get up in my business that bad, you could’ve just asked, y’know.” Benrey flops down on the couch right next to Gordon, extremely in his personal space already. Well, that hadn’t changed at least.  
  
“Is this hell? Did I die in my sleep and go to hell? Are you gonna turn into, like, a pile of snakes or spiders or something?”  
  
“Not unless you want me tooooo.” Benrey says, lazily leaning back on the couch and locking his fingers behind his head. Just as infuriating as the real thing.  
  
“Shut up. You can’t even shut up for half a second in a dream, can you.”, Gordon growls. But unlike the time in the kitchen, his anger isn’t really there. Something kicks to life inside of Gordon, and it gets his tail wagging like nothing else.  
  
Benrey grins like he knows exactly what Gordon wants. Gordon guesses he does, considering this is his dream.  
  
“Make me.”  
  
Okay then. Gordon grabs the front of Benrey’s shirt, pulling him in for a kiss, and when their mouths meet, it’s a dead ringer. Gordon knows it’s a dream. No way it feels this good. Benrey gasps a little, like he almost didn’t fully expect Gordon to take him up on his challenge, and Gordon takes the opportunity to slip his tongue into Benrey’s mouth, poking around his sharp teeth.  
  
Gordon backs up for a second, hands still curled into Benrey’s shirt.  
  
"You're sure about this?"  
  
"I wouldn't still be here if I wasn't sure."  
  
Gordon fully hops in Benrey’s lap, tail still going a mile a minute. God, where does he start. Benrey smells so much stronger up close, and past the general warmth and comforting softness he had detected before, Gordon can smell something else, a kind of faint staticky charge that makes his face itch. What a fuckin treat his brain had cooked up tonight. He didn’t even know he could be this creative. Everything all the way down to the smell is so vivid it's unreal.  
  
Benrey brings up a hand to Gordon's ears and gives them an encouraging scratch.  
  
"C'mon, let's get goin', get out of your head for half a second. I don't have all n _iiight-_ , fuck-"  
  
Benrey's cut off mid-sentence by Gordon leaning in and nipping lightly at his pulse point.  
  
“Gonna mark me all up? So I can't hide it? You want everyone to know what you're up to, huh?”, Benrey gasps out, and come to think of it, that does sound good, Gordon’s brain says. So he keeps going down Benrey's neck, a little harder now, until Benrey’s shirt gets in the way.  
  
"Yeah, can you fuckin-" Gordon give a little growl as he breaks contact for a second to tug the shirt over Benrey's head, "there."  
  
When trailing sharper and sharper nips down Benrey’s chest and sides only garnered increasingly positive responses. Gordon bites down on the dip in the middle of Benrey’s collarbone, hard. It’s a dream. Not like it could hurt, and Benrey gasps in a distinctly _not_ pained way, hand tightening where it had been running through Gordon’s hair.  
  
"Good?"  
  
"Fuck yes you're good." Benrey punctuates this by rolling his hips up into Gordon. It's hard to say whether Benrey's words or the movement got to Gordon more.  
  
Thank god this dream put him in gym shorts, it makes things a lot more simple. Benrey's hand pauses at Gordon's waistband, and he looks expectantly at Gordon for the go-ahead to continue.  
  
"Huh? Why'd you stop?" Gordon's voice edges into a desperate whine. He's way too overstimulated to get context clues at the moment.  
  
"Can I fuckin _jack you off_ , bro. It's not rocket science. Thought this was your dream."  
  
"Of course you can! Isn't that why we're here?"  
  
"It's just polite. Not that you'd know much about that-" Benrey hums, and gives Gordon's neck a light bite at the same time he wraps his hand around Gordon's dick. "would you?" Now it's Gordon's turn to arch his back and let out a breathy, wordless moan.  
  
As Benrey continues, it's not exactly as perfect as Gordon expected. Benrey seems to favor shorter, faster strokes, but that's not gonna stop Gordon from getting off.  
  
Gordon comes embarrassingly quickly on Benrey's chest with a full-body shudder, and slumps bonelessly forward onto him, trapping Benrey's arm between them.  
  
Benrey lets Gordon stay there while they both catch their breath, but discomfort quickly outweighs the pleasant feeling of skin-to-skin contact as they both start to shift around.  
  
"Ugh, get off, my arm's going numb."  
  
Gordon rolls off with a sigh to lay pressed up against Benrey's side, and Benrey throws an arm around him. Sure beats the shit out of whatever he was doing on the couch that night.  
  
"I know about the shirts, by the way."  
  
"Of course you do, you're in my head, man."  
  
"No, I mean, it's not like you're very sneaky. Kinda cute though, thinking you're being quiet. F-rank in stealth, bro."  
  
"Shut up, that's just paranoia. You would've stopped leaving them there by now if you knew."  
  
"You seem to like it. Figured I could at least keep doing that for you. Maybe I felt bad about it too."  
  
"Felt... Bad? About what? What do you have to feel bad about? I was the one who fucked up."  
  
"Feel bad about, y'know. All of it. Like you said in the kitchen. You were right."  
  
"No, I-I shouldn't have said that. I got carried away. It just feels like you're not hearing me sometimes, y'know? I should- I have to work on that."  
  
“I think you were just sorry it was _me_ on that couch.”  
  
“What? Fuck no! I was sorry because I thought you’d think I’m a creep!”  
  
"Then what the fuck were we arguing about?"  
  
Gordon sighs exasperatedly, rubbing his eyes with the back of his hand.  
  
“Yeah. You're right. This is all stupid. I just wish I could clear this up with you… In real life, y’know?”  
  
“Huh? Why can’t you?”  
  
Gordon barks out a humorless laugh at that.  
  
“You’d freak out and leave. I would too if a guy I wasn’t into said he was dreaming about me.”  
  
Benrey looks confused.  
  
“This is my dream, and it’s nice that I get to have this for a while, but it’s not how the “real world” works.”  
  
“Yeah, well, maybe try it out. Maybe be surprised at how good it turns out.”  
  
“You would say that. I guess I can’t be mad at you for lying. It’s… almost nice to hear from you. Or something like you.”  
  
Benrey hums in consideration and runs a hand through Gordon's hair.  
  
"Yeah. Something like me."  
  
"Y'know, I really am sorry. For... um. A lot of stuff." Not as eloquently phrased as Gordon was going for, but it seemed to work. Benrey hugs Gordon tighter, and they lay on the couch in silence until they both fade out of the living room. The last thing Gordon hears, muffled in the crook of his neck, is Benrey saying something that sounded like “’m sorry too.”  
  
Gordon wakes up with sticky sheets and wonders if lucid dreaming practice isn’t so ridiculous after all. Not as good as the real thing, but he could get used to that.  
  
Benrey wakes up with sticky sheets and wonders why he didn’t think of dream hopping sooner. Not as good as the real thing though. He’d have to fix that.  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hoo! there's that, huh?


	4. Gotcha

Wow, Gordon had vivid dreams last night. He usually doesn’t remember his dreams, but EVERYTHING about that one is sticking with him. Feels good.  
  
Gordon makes himself breakfast and goes about his (extremely uneventful) day with a bounce in his step that he feels a bit guilty about. He doesn’t deserve to feel this happy about a stupid dream, but it’s too hard not to, so he gives in and lets himself feel content for the time being.  
  
As the clock ticks steadily toward midnight, Gordon gets up for a break from his lucid dreaming wikipedia dive and catches sight of his sheetless mattress and remembers. Laundry. He didn’t intend to leave his room this late; Benrey was usually up and about this time of day, but what the hell. Not like they were on speaking terms. Benrey would probably just ignore him.  
  
Luckily, no Benrey in the living room. Gordon lets out a breath he didn’t know he’d been holding.  
  
No activity in the kitchen or laundry room either, but just as Gordon sets down his hamper, Benrey rounds the corner and leans against the doorframe to the small room.  
  
“Hey, you’re up late.” Gordon tries not to startle too visibly. Just stall until Benrey leaves. He’s acutely aware that Benrey’s shirts _aren’t_ folded into his sheets. They'd fall directly on top when he emptied it into the washer. Thinking back, Gordon estimates he’s got about four of them in there. Way too many to explain away.  
  
“Yep. Early worm gets the bird.”  
  
“That’s not how the saying goes. And it doesn’t apply to this situation either way.”  
  
Benrey doesn’t respond. As a matter of fact, he’s staying unnaturally still, vaguely reminiscent of a predator waiting for its prey to make the first move. Not a comforting thought. Okay, maybe _some_ anxiety was warranted.  
  
“Hah, well. Yepppp… I’m sure you’ve been pretty busy lately, huh?”  
  
Stupid fucking question, what the hell was there for Benrey to be busy with?  
  
“Nope.”  
  
Okay, that’s a reasonable answer. Keep it together, Gordon.  
  
“Hah. Me neither. Just, y’know. Hanging out.”  
  
“That makes two of us.”  
  
Tense silence fills the room, and Gordon turns away to busy himself looking for the soap in the cupboard. It’s right at the front. Well, small talk is out. And puttering around “looking for the soap” is out too. Turning back toward the washer, Gordon tries to upend the hamper into it fast enough for the clothes inside to not be too visible, but it’s pointless. Benrey’s watching too closely.  
  
“Heyyyy what’cha doing with my shirts there?” There it is. Of course. Gordon was acting so conspicuous it would’ve been more surprising if he wasn’t hiding something.  
  
“What’s it look like? I’m doing the laundry.” Play it off, act natural. Do NOT let your ears lay back.  
  
“Yeah? ‘Cause it sure looks like you’ve been snatching up my stinky old clothes. You being a nasty lil dog?” He can practically hear the triumphant smirk in Benrey’s voice.  
  
“Whuh-no, man, it’s just, I, uh. I don’t… I don’t like when clothes sit in the washer for too long…?” Not a question, Gordon. Why did you say it like a question? God, why didn’t he join the improv club in high school.  
  
“Then why do _you_ leave clothes in there.”  
  
Benrey’s clearly not buying it, and he even has the gall to look amused. Gordon sifts through his memories frantically looking for a reasonable excuse, but nothing comes to mind. He’s well and truly fucked.  
  
“It’s-I’m-”  
  
“Yeah? Go on?”  
  
A lightbulb flashes on in Gordon’s head. Blame it on the potion.  
  
“I think the… that potion did something weird to me. Well, other than the obvious.” Gordon points at his ears. That’s technically not a lie, but it’s too vague. Sure to raise suspicion. Gordon grits his teeth and waits for Benrey’s rebuttal.  
  
Nothing. He just stays in the doorway, looking unimpressed as ever.  
  
Well, if this is the way it’s going to go, so be it. Even thought Benrey was considerably bigger, stronger, faster… never mind. Gordon’s chances aren’t looking that good. But the alternative is to calmly and rationally explain that he was huffing his roommate’s shirts every night, and somehow that doesn’t feel like a viable choice. Maybe if Gordon’s lucky, he can get around Benrey and make a break for his room. Admittedly not the mature option, but when had maturity ever come into play in their arguments.  
  
Okay, start saying something, Benrey’s gonna let his guard down, and Gordon’s gonna make a break for it. Not a perfect plan, but it’s as good as he’s gonna get.  
  
“Hey, listen. It’s just that I’ve-” There’s his opening.  
  
Gordon darts toward the door, trying to slip out of the room, but Benrey reacts faster, sticking out an arm to catch Gordon around the waist. And god he just lifts him up like he weighs nothing at all.  
  
“Fuckin-put me down man! I’m not a kid, you can’t just pick me up like that.” Gordon knows there’s not much point in trying to get away, if Benrey wanted to keep him there, he would. So, Gordon just goes limp in an effort to make himself as difficult to hold as possible. Benrey doesn’t seem to notice.  
  
“Not putting you down until you explain.” Benrey’s heading for the living room.  
  
“I’ll just… not do it again. C’mon, I’m sorry.” Panic’s starting to seep into Gordon’s voice. This is going very poorly very quickly.  
  
“As if I’m taking that after last time. Get to talking. Spill the beans.” Benrey sets him down on the couch, but, of course, Gordon jumps up immediately.  
  
“What the hell was that all about, man? You’re not my fucking mom! Christ, I’m leaving, I’m not even gonna try anymore.” At least removing himself from this situation feels justified. Seriously, if you pick someone up like that, they have every right to be mad. Right?  
  
“How about we both _stay_ this time.” There’s something in Benrey’s voice that Gordon can’t quite place.  
  
Gordon hesitates for a second before sitting back down. Fuck, he wishes there were furniture in the living room that’s not a couch.  
  
“O…kay… Yeah, I guess you deserve an explanation.” No more delaying the inevitable. Knowing that doesn’t make the inevitable hurt any less, though. Gordon takes a deep breath and hopes against hope that this goes better than he thinks it will.  
  
“It’s just. Ever since all this-” Gordon points at his ears again. “happened? It’s like I can’t fall asleep when I'm alone, or something. God that sounded weird. I- I don’t know what it is either, if I could explain better, I would.”  
  
“You getting off on that too? Lil bonus round?” Benrey’s face is still perfectly neutral, but his eyes are narrowed slightly.  
  
“N- shit… I mean… yeah, sometimes.” Worst possible question. Gordon’s eyes are darting around the room in a desperate attempt to not look at Benrey.  
  
“ _HAH-_ really? That was a joke, but wow, okay then.”  
  
“I honestly don’t know why, and-god I’m so fucking sorry. I thought- it was just such a small thing, I thought you’d never need to know. I messed this all up and made you uncomfortable and now you’re gonna leave and-” Now he’s choking back tears. Nothing like topping this nightmare off with some extra humiliation. Gordon tucks his face into his knees. God, he wishes he could just go to his room and stop making this worse. Though at this point he’s ruined everything so thoroughly he doesn’t think leaving would do a lot to mitigate the damage.  
  
\---  
  
Benrey’s freaking the fuck out. He was just gonna push a little bit, get Gordon a little riled up. This situation was so irresistibly _perfect_ for needling, after all. And besides, he had hoped that after last night, Gordon would catch on to some kind of subliminal hint, or at least have somewhere to start. But apparently, they weren’t just on different pages, they were reading different fucking books. And now Gordon’s ears are flat with his head and he's trying so hard not to cry and Benrey has absolutely no idea what to do. So, he goes for the shoulder touch. Gordon did that to people all the time, and sometimes it calmed them down, right? But Gordon’s still not talking, and he’s got his knees pulled into his chest so tightly it looks like he’s trying to fold in on himself. Benrey has to say something. And it’s gotta be good.  
  
“Hey, um. It’s okay. Cool. I’m not leaving, ok?”  
  
Gordon gives a feeble sniffle and raises his head a little. Benrey keeps his hand on Gordon’s shoulder. It would feel weird to take it off now, he reasons.  
  
“No, man, it’s fine, you don’t have to. I’ll stay in a hotel or something until we work out somewhere for you to stay. This’s my fault, I have to fix it.”  
  
“You think this is your fault? You think I wasn’t leaving them there for you on purpose?”  
  
“Leaving them _for_ me?”  
  
Gordon looks so earnestly confused it would be frustrating if it wasn't so adorable.  
  
“ _Yes for you_ , and besides, did you think you were being sneaky? Like I said last night, kinda cute.”  
  
“Last… night?” Now Gordon’s attention is fully piqued.  
  
“Yeah, bro. Your dream.”  
  
“My _WHAT_?”  
  
“I know you remember.”  
  
“Oh my god was I talking in my sleep. Please tell me I wasn’t talking in my sleep.”  
  
Great. This is backfiring too. Gordon’s looking even more panicked than before.  
  
“No, or, I suppose yes? It’s complicated. We were talking in your sleep. If that makes sense.”  
  
“You mean it WASN’T a dream?”  
  
“Yeah-no-well. Like I said, it’s more complicated than that. I just popped in for a visit. I get lonely too, y’know.”  
  
Gordon’s having a tough time chewing through all the thoughts bouncing around his head, most prominently, thoughts about the content of his, or _their_ , dream. He decides not to bring those up right now.  
  
“You mean you can just… do that? Go into people’s dreams?”  
  
Benrey shrugs and averts his eyes.  
  
“Yeah, I guess. I can do a lot of stuff.”  
  
They sit there in awkward silence for a bit. That’s one way to dance around that conversation. Way to remind everyone you’re some kind of space god with reality-bending powers.  
  
“You can take your hand off my shoulder if you want to, y’know.” Gordon says quietly.  
  
“Right. Sorry.” Benrey gives his shoulder an awkward little farewell pat as he removes his hand, and Gordon immediately misses the contact. Something about it was so viscerally comforting.  
  
“Or you can. Keep it there if you want to.” Gordon mumbles into his knees.  
  
"Huh? What’s that? You want more pets?"  
  
Benrey brightens immediately. This, he can handle. No more shitty, sad Gordon.  
  
"Fuckin... not PET. I just wanna see what it feels like. Don’t make this embarrassing."  
  
"Like it's not already.” Benrey scoffs.  
  
Gordon starts to feel that familiar prickle of irritation rising in the back of his neck. A welcome change to the cold dread of a few minutes ago.  
  
"C’mon man, I just want to see if it feels different.”  
  
"Want it that bad, huh?”  
  
Gordon fixes Benrey with a death stare that would probably kill anyone else instantly, and shifts forward to press his face into Benrey’s hand. Yeah, maybe it was embarrassing, but what else are they supposed to do. Sit here two feet apart on this stupid couch forever?  
  
Thankfully, Benrey takes it in stride, and runs his hand surprisingly gently from the side of Gordon’s face, and down his shoulder and upper arm.  
  
Bang. Just like that, Gordon melts, un-scrunching his legs and flopping face-forward onto the couch to get more of himself within petting range.  
  
“Woah. You really do like that, huh?”  
  
Gordon just hums in response and stretches a little further, turning onto his side.  
  
“You want this or not? I can barely reach you there. Just put your head in my lap already, stop being so baby shit about it.”  
  
“Fine”, Gordon huffs and adjusts a little further up the couch, putting his head on Benrey’s lap. Somehow laying on his back felt like a little too far though, so he stays laying on his side, facing the currently off TV.  
  
Benrey gets right back to it, pressing little circles into the remaining tension in the back of Gordon’s neck. Gordon's tail thumps to life, lazily hitting against the back of the couch.  
  
“Good?”  
  
“Yeahhhh, better than good. Keep going? Please?” Benrey obliges, smoothing a hand down Gordon’s upper back. Gordon sighs contentedly and leans into the contact. That potion really must have done more than just the ears and tail, because there’s no way cuddling felt this good before. Not that Gordon had much to reference there. Suffice it to say most of his past relationships hadn’t been the affectionate types.  
  
Benrey keeps going in silence for a couple minutes, and Gordon’s trying to fight back his drowsiness. It feels like he should clarify something, his mind points out unhelpfully.  
  
“Um, hold on.” Gordon gives Benrey’s hand a gentle push away from where it had been running along his side.  
“Hm?”  
  
“It just seems like… Maybe we should sleep on it, y’know?”  
  
“If you’re worried about me changing my mind, it’s never gonna happen.” Benrey says this like it’s a given, and that does assuage Gordon’s apprehension a little. But a not inconsiderable portion of his brain’s still very loudly insisting that there’s no way Benrey would be okay with this. Okay with him.  
  
“Thanks, but still. Maybe we can just chill out here for a while?”  
  
“Nah, bro. Bedtime. You’re coming with me.”  
  
Benrey scoops Gordon up off the couch and starts down the hallway, passing by Gordon’s room and heading for his own.  
  
“You don’t have to carry me everywhere, man. I can walk.”  
  
“You looked a little… uh. Sleepy. Is this ok?”  
  
“Yeah, but are you, like… Sure? I don’t want to impose.”  
  
“Bro, I’m fucking carrying you to my room. How does it feel like you’re imposing?”  
  
Benrey’s room is unsettlingly normal, same guest bed (which, to Gordon’s surprise, is neatly made and has a small quilt on top of it), same lamp and chair (mostly thrown in to make it feel less depressing). The only change was the smell, and holy shit was it nice. The whole room smelled like Benrey. Like all the warmth and comfort of stepping into a sauna without any of the unpleasant humidity or claustrophobia.  
  
“Welcome to my palace.”  
  
“It’s um, it’s nice.” Gordon’s going a little stupid. Whether because of how tired he is, or how relaxed he is is hard to say. Probably a combination of both.  
  
“Fuck yeah it’s nice. Here.” Benrey drops Gordon on his bed like a sack of potatoes, and Gordon wastes no time curling up under the sheets.  
  
Benrey quickly follows suit, snuggling against Gordon’s back and resting an arm over his chest.  
  
Gordon must’ve hit his emotional outburst quota for the day because he’s too tired to have a crisis over how good that feels right now. All he really wants is to fall right the fuck asleep. Thankfully, it seems like Benrey has the same idea. Hold on. Why is Benrey's breathing so deep. There’s no way he’s already asleep, is there?  
  
“Benrey? You awake?”  
  
No response. That’s fine with him. Gordon settles more into the bed and closes his eyes.  
  
Nothing like not sleeping alone.

  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If I don't make it soft I _will_ explode


	5. Sounds Good to Me

It’s hard not to be too surprised, waking up next to someone for the first time in… a little too long. Benrey’s still sleeping, and he’d barely moved at all; he still has an arm over Gordon’s chest even though Gordon had rolled over at some point last night.  
  
Carefully extracting himself from bed (Benrey doesn’t even twitch), Gordon heads out to the kitchen to make some breakfast. No way is he gonna wake Benrey up to make him breakfast. Nothing changed. All they did was… sleep together. Oh god, oh fuck, they slept together. Maybe not in the colloquial sense, but literally _slept_ together. Gordon stares vacantly at the bowl in the cupboard like he’s never seen one before in his life. His brain’s still stuck in the bedroom. If their whole “thing” was confusing before, it’s infinitely more so now. The dream didn’t count. He’s not going to think about that, because if he does, Gordon’s pretty sure he’ll go insane on the spot. Nothing like throwing a big ‘ol wrench into their completely platonic and chill cuddle session. Without the dream, that would all be FINE. Normal roommate activity. God, it’s not like he can ignore it forever, though. It recontextualizes every single interaction they’d had since, and as much as he’d like to tune it out, Benrey’s his fucking _roommate_ , and there’s no way all that didn’t change something.  
  
Okay, he’s got to eat. Enough thinking for now. And besides, nobody can process anything on an empty stomach.  
  
Cheerios and breaking bad mix pretty well. Or at least it’s working to get Gordon out of his head. He’s good at distracting himself. Not that that’s something to brag about, but it’s served him well in his life so far.  
  
A couple hours later, Gordon’s cereal is long gone, he’s sick of breaking bad, and he’s starting to feel conscious thought creeping back into his brain. Frankly, those are all completely unacceptable. He processed and came clean and whatever the fuck last night and now you’re telling him there’s more?  
  
Fuck it, gaming time. Good ol’ dark souls always stays the same. At least he has to focus enough to suppress most other brain functions.  
  
\---  
  
A while later, some movement off to the side of the couch catches Gordon’s eye. Hold on. Benrey’s up already? How long has he been sitting here? It’s way too easy to just vegetate on the couch all day.  
  
"Hey, you're up early."  
  
"Early?", Benrey snorts derisively. "maybe pay more attention to the world passing you by, friend."  
  
“Huh? What time is it?”  
  
“Do you see a watch?” Benrey pointedly holds his arm in front of Gordon’s face, blocking the tv. “All I know is it’s dark out. Maybe you’d know too if you ever opened the curtains.”  
  
“Unhelpful. And move your fuckin arm, man.”  
  
As Benrey moves his hand out of his face, something in Gordon's subconscious reacts, and he ducks down to narrowly dodge Benrey’s hand as he’s reaching over for a pet.  
  
Benrey raises his eyebrows, clearly looking for an explanation. Gordon doesn’t have one. He’s more relieved to have something to think about that doesn't involve getting repeatedly destroyed by the capra demon. New interactions to dust the cobwebs off his brain, maybe replace everything he's worried about with fresh, interesting things to worry about. So, they just stare each other down tensely for a moment.  
  
Gordon breaks first, jumping off the couch and into a shoddy approximation of a defensive stance. But his fuckin tail’s giving him away. Way to be subtle, the stupid thing’s wagging like there’s no tomorrow. And hold on, why was he doing this again? Oh, of course. Laying on the couch all day’s sure to give anyone some pent-up energy. That must be it. Pent-up energy’s all this is.  
  
“What, you wanna be in charge of when I can and can’t? Lil control freak?” Benrey’s emphasis on _freak_ makes Gordon’s stomach drop, and he does _not_ want to think about the implications that comes with right now.  
  
“No- that’s fuckin- it’s not like th-”  
  
“Is it or isn’t it? Who’s the doggy here? Make up your miiiind.”  
  
“I dunno, you tell me.” At least they’re both aware of what’s going on. Gordon likes the feel of a more even fight. Wait… fight? Game? Fuck it, whatever this is, Gordon’s gonna win.  
  
Benrey vaults over the couch and lands way too quietly to be normal. Now they’re face to face in the living room. Benrey’s looking about as relaxed as he ever does, and Gordon’s tensed up for a tussle. Then Benrey feints to the right, steps to the left, and buckles Gordon’s legs instantly with a well-placed tap to the back of his knees. Before Gordon can hit the floor, Benrey grabs the front of his shirt and just lets him hang there, grinning down at him.  
  
“Looks like I gotcha. You kinda suck at… uh, winning. Pretty good at losing, though. You lose a lot.”  
  
Gordon dangles there for about five seconds trying to process what just happened before his thoughts are collected enough to get his legs under him again, jumping back up into his stupid little 'fighting stance'.  
  
“Oh, fuck off. No weird powers. Try that again without cheating, I dare you.” Now Gordon’s really fired up. No way was that gonna be the end of this. Gordon gives an anticipatory bounce on the balls of his feet, tail wagging even faster than before. He’s making the first move this time.  
  
“That was all me, bro. No tricks, pure skill, I promise.”  
  
“Yeah, right. Like I’m buying that.”  
  
Gordon decides to replicate that stupid little kick Benrey had done on him. Not like he’s in the best of shape, but it’s just a kick. How hard could it be? Thanks for the idea, sucker. Benrey's not even expecting it, he guesses. Or maybe he is, he looks just about as unconcerned as it's possible to look.  
  
Gordon imitates the feint that had worked on him, but Benrey doesn’t fall for it, and just stays facing forward. Okay, that’s fine, get on his side, you can still sweep his legs. No problem.  
  
Going in for the kick, Gordon lets out a rather undignified yelp as Benrey grabs his right leg and easily swipes his left out from under him.  
  
This time, Benrey doesn’t catch him, and he hits the carpet with a thump.  
  
“Look who’s on top again, big dog.” Benrey rests a knee lightly on his lower back. The pressure's light enough for Gordon to easily roll out, but something in his brain reminds him that he _did_ just lose. Fair and square this time.  
  
“Don’t say shit like that or I’ll just leave, I fuckin swear.” Throwing out empty threats is Gordon’s specialty.  
  
“Yeah, right. You like it, dontcha?” And parrying empty threats with snappy little retorts is Benrey's specialty.  
  
“Sssssshhhhhut up”, Gordon hisses. Yeah, maybe he did. Not like he’s going to give Benrey the satisfaction of knowing that.  
  
Benrey goes quiet, clearly thinking about something.  
  
“Huh? What’s u _uhhhhhhp_ -” Gordon’s cut off mid-sentence by Benrey running his hand firmly from the back of Gordon’s neck to the base of his tail. And _wow_ does that feel good in a different way than last night. Gordon gives an appreciative shudder before going even more limp.  
  
“S’ that good?”  
  
“Mmh, yeah. More? Please?” Gordon's not going to stoop as low as to give Benrey his pleading face, so he rests his head on his arm and looks the other way.  
  
“Since you asked so nicely-”  
  
Benrey pays special attention to the base of Gordon’s tail and his lower back, and its driving them both up a wall how fucking _sensitive_ he is there, inhaling sharply at every pet and curving his back up into the contact.  
  
Gordon’s pressing his face into his upper arm, trying to stifle the satisfied little noises spilling out of his mouth. It’s not working very well, and when he lets a particularly enthusiastic moan slip, Benrey stops. Great fucking timing, as usual.  
  
“Keep goin? Please?” God, there’s that whine edging back into his voice again. He has to learn how to stop that.  
  
“Wanna roll over for me? C’mon, arentcha getting tired of this yet?” Benrey grins down at him, and now Gordon turns his head to glare at him.  
  
“Fuckin fine.” Gordon’s face and neck are flushed a deep pink, and he’s definitely more than half-hard. If he had to guess, Benrey’s more than aware of that fact. He’s doing this on purpose.  
  
“Aw sweet, c’mon then. Get to it.”  
  
Benrey gives him an encouraging nudge, and Gordon rolls over to lay face-up. This feels distinctly weirder than face-down. Something about the eye contact, probably. Speaking of eyes, Benrey’s are fixed on Gordon’s crotch. Not like there’s any misunderstanding about this, then.  
  
“Not a fuckin museum, keep going already.”  
  
“Getting impatient now? Gonna not let me pet you then take it back?”  
  
“Yeah, actually. I am.”  
  
Benrey complies with an amused snort, getting right to petting every inch of Gordon he can reach. Gordon relaxes back into the carpet and closes his eyes. Much better.  
  
After about a minute of this, Gordon’s breathing is going shallower than before, and he’s trying to resist reaching down to give himself some much needed contact. Somehow that doesn’t feel like the sporting move in this situation, so he just gets more and more worked up every time Benrey pointedly avoids his dick in favor of paying more attention to his chest and stomach.  
  
Until he doesn't. Benrey trails his hand down Gordon's sternum, and in one continuous motion, winds up grinding the heel of his hand into Gordon's crotch.  
  
He's still got his eyes closed, so, not expecting the attention so suddenly, Gordon squeaks in surprise and jerks his hips into Benrey’s hand.  
  
“Woah, You good?”  
  
“Yeah, but can we- uh. Go to your bedroom?”  
  
His face is burning with embarrassment. Not cool to bring that up out of nowhere. Benrey smelled nice, but his room was straight up overwhelming. Overwhelming in a that he'd very much like to be in if this is going any further. Which it looks like it is. At least his request could be reasonably disguised as 'maybe don't give me a handjob on the floor'.  
  
“Huh?”  
  
“Guh- I’m not doing this here man, c’mon.”  
  
Gordon wiggles out from under Benrey and pointedly brushes off his shirt. Don’t look down, don’t look down, this is fine. Not quite sure what to do, Gordon decides to just head for Benrey's room as fast as he can without looking desperate.  
  
As Gordon trots down the hallway, he turns his head to check if Benrey’s following him. Sure enough, he is. And holy shit, he looks even more affected than Gordon feels. Heavy blush high on his cheeks, and mouth open a little. Like he’s in a fucking trance or something.  
  
Flopping down on the bed, Gordon not-so-discreetly makes a show of stuffing his face into Benrey's pillow before rolling onto his back over with a dopey smile on his face. Yep, the smell still hits. Benrey kneels on the bed at his side, assuming the same position they had been in the living room.  
  
“Hey, hold on. Are you clean?”  
  
“Wha-?”  
  
“C’mon, head in the game. D’you have any STD’s.” Gordon’s brain quietly interjects that it’s probably not going far enough for that to be a concern tonight, but better safe than sorry.  
  
“Noooo way, you get to break my factory warranty bro.”  
  
“ _“Factory warranty”_? You mean you’re a fuckin virgin?”  
  
“Guess so.”  
  
“Um. That’s ok, nothing wrong with that.”  
  
"....Ok?"  
  
This silence stretches on for a way too long, both of them awkwardly shifting around in bed. Benrey clearly doesn't know how to make heads or tails of the implied cultural stigma around being a virgin. Probably better that way though.  
  
“Uhhh... Lil help here? What’s the- the uh... modus operandi…? Should I…Um?”  
  
“It’s the same shit man, just do what you did before. I didn’t get a new dick overnight. Just hurry up or I'll go fuckin soft on you”, Gordon huffs impatiently.  
  
“It’s harder when it’s real, you wouldn’t get it.”  
  
“Sure, I guess I wouldn’t “get” that, but I _know_ you know how to jack off, so don’t even try to play dumb with me there.” As he's saying this, Gordon takes the opportunity to wiggle out of his sweatpants. Yeah, that 'going soft' comment was another classic Freeman Empty Threat.  
  
"Ok, fine." Benrey scrunches his nose in concentration and hums a bit before giving his hand a generous lick. It comes away almost dripping with purple sweet voice. Gordon decides not to think too hard about that, especially as Benrey wraps his hand around Gordon's dick and gives a few experimental strokes. "Happy now?"  
  
“Yeahhhhh- you got it-” Gordon's eyes drift closed again. Focus on feelings and smells, that's more than enough-  
  
"Hey, open your eyes." Benrey snaps his fingers next to Gordon's ear, and his eyes pop open immediately. When he does, Benrey's making such direct eye contact, it makes him want to close his eyes again. But on the other hand, Benrey's been doing pretty much everything he asks for, so keeping his eyes open feels like the right thing to do. Even if it makes his stomach twist into knots like he's never felt before.  
  
Thankfully, Benrey quickly gets distracted multitasking jacking him off and feeling up Gordon's hips and thighs, so Gordon closes his eyes again to try and revel in the feeling.  
  
Nothing too special, it felt pretty much exactly like the dream, same technique and all. A little snappier than Gordon preferred, but he guesses that fits Benrey's personality. Still, jacking off's jacking off, and Gordon's pretty quickly feeling that familiar tension coiling in his gut.  
  
“Gonna be a good and cum for me? _My_ good boy?” Benrey punctuates the ' _my_ ' with a squeeze to the base of Gordon's dick that's just barely tight enough to be uncomfortable.  
  
“Hhhhholy shit-” That pushes Gordon over the edge immediately, coming over Benrey's hand and his own stomach with a full-body shudder.  
  
“Awh- fuck- haHAH” Benrey’s laugh sounds borderline hysterical. “You made a fuckin mess- shit- good boy, it’s ok, you did good.” He brushes a couple wayward tufts of hair out of Gordon’s face, and as Gordon catches his breath, he decides that going to sleep right here right now sounds like an incredibly good idea.  
  
“I gotta go- go uh- take care of something. I’ll be riiight back.” Benrey starts to back off the bed stiffly, wiping his hand off on the sheets tactlessly.  
  
Right, sleeping’s off the table, then.  
  
“Nooo, don’t leave, I can help you out-” Gordon tries to grab onto Benrey’s arm, but misses and grabs his hand instead. Laying all splayed out on the bed like some kind of fucked up dogboy Renaissance painting.  
  
“Huh? You- wha?” Benrey turns to look down at Gordon in surprise, pupils blown so wide his iris is barely visible.  
  
“You’ve been, like, really nice to me-” _Nice_? If Gordon weren’t on cloud nine right now, he’d beat himself up more over that. “-and I’ve done fuck all for you. Kind of a dick move on my part. Fair’s fair.”  
  
Benrey cringes at that, pulling his hand away.  
  
“You don’t gotta “get even” or whatever, it’s not like that, it’s fine.”  
  
“I’m sorry, I said that weird, I just- I _want_ to do this for you, ok?”  
  
No fucking way was Benrey going to say no to that. Getting back onto the bed with a squeak, he fiddles with the sheets uncomfortably for a moment. Now they’re laying side-by-side and there’s no way Benrey’s gonna make the first move this time. Gordon’s staring at him with a look in his eyes that’s bordering on starstruck, and it’s freaking Benrey out a little.  
  
“So- uh…? How we gonna do this?”  
  
“Oh! Right.” Gordon snaps back into focus. “I guess I can suck you off- If that’s good with you?” He places a hand on Benrey’s upper thigh with an uncharacteristically gentle smile. So, sue him, he’s been thinking about this for a while.  
  
Okay, we’re back in boner city. Benrey chokes back some sweet voice when he opens his mouth to reply, which Gordon seems to find very funny at the moment.  
  
“Yeah, sounds cool. Fffffine with me."  
  
"Okay. I gotcha." Gordon readjusts himself so he's kneeling by Benrey's side, like Benrey had been before, and pulls his sweatpants and boxers down with a sharp tug before scooching over so he's positioned between Benrey's legs.  
  
At least Benrey's dick's a manageable size. In Gordon’s _very_ limited experience, he’s willing to bet that he’ll be able to fit enough of it in his mouth for this to work.  
  
When he first licks Benrey's dick, base to tip, it kind of feels like Gordon’s whole world’s been submerged in honey. A little lost in the sauce, so to speak. Benrey throws his head back into the pillow with a shaky whine. Now he's flushed all the way to the tips of his ears.  
  
Going down on it fully, it's only a matter of seconds before Gordon's getting sloppy. Seems like Benrey likes it more anyway, his fists tighten where they’re gripping onto the sheets.  
  
Gordon pulls off to make a quick clarification. “You can hold my head if you wanna, y’know. I’m not going to break.”  
  
Benrey just nods, and reaches a hand down to thread through Gordon's hair, more following his up-and-down movements than trying to guide him.  
  
A little part of Gordon's psyche feels irrationally disappointed at how gentle Benrey's being, but if this is going to be a common occurrence, now doesn't feel like the time to bring it up. Instead, he doubles down and tries to make this feel, well, good. Add a little more suction but not too much, flatten the tongue, ah fuck, watch out for the teeth. Gordon's efforts are working pretty well, and Benrey's coming more undone by the second.  
  
“I’m gonna fuckin- you don’t gotta swallow, bro.”  
  
Gordon hums in assent and flashes a thumbs up, staying right where he is. Benrey’s hand tightens in his hair, and Gordon notices that he's still taking care not to twist his ears, which is just about the sweetest thing he can imagine in this situation. As Gordon mulls that over, Benrey tenses, and comes with an absolutely ruined sounding moan.  
  
It doesn’t taste _great_ , something about it reminds Gordon a little of the first time he’d tasted straight vanilla extract. Way too concentrated to be pleasant. Like that warm, comforting smell that Benrey had was distilled down until it turned bitter. But he won’t say no to less clean-up afterwards, so this’ll have to be fine.  
  
Pulling his mouth off with a pop that draws another weak little noise from Benrey, Gordon moves back up to lay next to him, and pulls the sheets over them both. See, he can be a gentleman if he tries.  
  
Benrey's either dead asleep or _almost_ dead asleep already. Seems like he's the kind of guy to fall asleep immediately post-nut. Like, even more immediately than Gordon usually does, which is saying a lot.  
  
As he drifts off to sleep, Gordon reassures himself that that definitely wasn't a dream. At least he could process this in a way humans were designed to process things; solidly based in reality.  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> every day I think thoughts


	6. Oh, How the Cookie Crumbles

It’s been three days. Three miserable days and it feels like a fucking eternity.  
  
The logical part of Gordon’s brain may be extremely small, but it’s telling him that expecting more out of this little… fling? Is unrealistic. Sleeping together one (technically two if you're gonna be nitpicky about it and count the dream) time isn’t really grounds to make a big deal out of it. Benrey’s probably just fucking around, that’s all he does anyway, and it’s easier to think that than trying to address the alternative. Sometimes the easy way out is, in fact, the better option, Gordon reassures himself. People do this all the time. Don’t make it weird. Don’t get your feelings hurt when Benrey’s not paying attention to you 24/7.  
  
At least Benrey's keeping physical affection constant. It's pretty much just business as usual, but with the addition of an occasional head pat or ear scritch. The last couple nights, they’d sat closer together on the couch than usual. That has to count for something, right? But past that, Benrey was acting like nothing had changed. Communication sounds great in theory, but in practice it’s ridiculously embarrassing and difficult.  
  
Gordon had decided that it would be a little much to go sleep in Benrey’s room uninvited. He tries to remember that this is infinitely preferable to the silent treatment, but it’s hard not to want more once you’ve had it. He should probably stop sitting on his computer and sulking all day to distract himself, but what else is there to do?

At least showers are a brief moment of solace, and Gordon’s taken to making them part of his nightly routine. Even if his water bill’s probably going to be through the roof, the relaxation’s worth it, so Gordon gets up and listlessly shuffles through his drawers for a clean pair of pajamas.

\---

After turning on the hot water, Gordon carelessly tosses his “day clothes” (essentially the same as his “pajamas”) in a pile. Picking them up sounds like another problem for future Gordon. Too bad for that guy, his problems are really starting to pile up. Present-Gordon just lets the hot water wash over him and tries not to think about anything too hard.

Though the petting WAS comforting, and he obviously prefers it to nothing, it serves little more purpose than getting Gordon riled up as of late. Getting him riled up and Benrey doesn’t seem to notice, like he’s pretending not to know what he’s doing. Yeah, right. He knows, he just doesn’t CARE. As he scrubs shampoo into his hair, Gordon can’t help but to give an especially vengeful tug at that thought, and the dull pain shoots straight to his dick. Now there’s an idea. No more focusing on the many frustrations of his INCREDIBLY complicated and difficult life. Just jack off. What better way is there to relieve stress?

…Has his soap always smelled this strong? He needs a haircut; it’s tickling his neck in a really distracting way. Wait, was Benrey up? Why didn’t he check in the living room to see if he was there? Why is the shower so quiet? Every shaky exhale and obnoxiously loud slap sounds like it echoes around the bathroom. What is this, a fucking catacomb? Ugh, it’s almost like the t-shirt days all over again, frantically getting off like he has to hide it, funny how it's already categorized as "the t-shirt days" in his head when it was just a couple days ago. Something other than that’s nagging at his conscience though, it feels almost like he’s cheating. Which doesn’t make a lot of sense. Not only are they most decidedly NOT in a relationship, who was he cheating with? His right hand?

Fuck. No matter how hard he tries, it’s not working. Just feels kind of… bland. The dry, unseasoned white rice of masturbation.

Maybe thinking about your sexual frustration and guilt-tripping yourself for no apparent reason doesn’t make for optimal jacking off conditions.

Gordon sighs exasperatedly and turns the shower off. Whatever. He can go another night, it’s not like he’s completely at the mercy of his brain chemicals. He’s an adult, he can conduct himself with dignity and poise.

Good luck with that.

At least he can stall for time to calm down a little more by blow drying his hair. Normally he doesn’t bother, but it does feel good. On a whim, Gordon decides to blow dry his tail too. It’s just nice to not air-dry for once, is all. And, well, if it does make him look extra fluffy and cute for a change instead of his usual zero-maintenance strategy, that’s just a coincidence.

…Oh, who is he kidding. This doesn’t make any fucking sense. Benrey’s the instigator. He knows what he’s doing, and if he wanted more, he’d do what he does best and fucking _instigate_. With or without Gordon’s borderline pathetic attempts at garnering more positive attention.

He was planning on heading out to the couch to laze around and look casually enticing, y’know, the look that screams _“I put no effort into this, please pay attention to me”_ , but right now all he really wants is to try to fall asleep and not think about what an embarrassing, stupid idea that was in the first place. Maybe put on some white noise. Do a few breathing exercises. That doesn’t sound like a terrible way to spend a night. He’s had worse, that’s for sure.

But as Gordon slinks out the bathroom door and over to his room, Benrey’s voice freezes him in his tracks.

“Heard you in there, y’know. Just like before, you’re not sneaky.” Benrey’s turned fully around to face the hallway, resting his head on the back of the couch.

“Why were you listening, then?” Gordon figures that’s a sufficiently goading response. Is Benrey instigating? That sounded like instigation. But it also sounded like normal Benrey bullshit.

“Thought we were doing this. Full homo, right? You just gotta ask.”

“ _Ask?_ Ask what? Go on, tell me what you think I should ask.”

“Hey, no need to get all mad. Just sayin’ you can ask if you wanna.”

“I don’t- if you mean, like. Uh-” Intense embarrassment is starting to become a status quo emotion in Gordon’s brain, so why not just spit it out. Though politely asking to have his brains fucked out in a way that’s not so mortifying it’ll kill him on the spot is a tall order.

“If we- if you want to do that again, I mean- I want to, it's just, you’re really gentle. I’m not made of glass, yeah? You can jerk me around a little more, y’know? Like when we’re fighting?” Gordon figures that’ll suffice. It’s about as much as he can say out loud without collapsing in on himself like a dying star, and Benrey’s not completely clueless, he can read a room.

Benrey looks straight up crushed. Uh oh. Maybe he’s worse at reading the room than Gordon had initially assumed.

“You _are_ , though.”

The way Benrey mumbles that out hits like a truck. Feels like all the air’s been punched out of Gordon’s lungs. How the fuck is he supposed to respond to that?

“You break. You get hurt when I wouldn’t.” Benrey continues, gesturing vaguely at Gordon’s arm.

“I told you, it’s okay, I’m fine now. It’s not like you did it yourself or anything.”

“Don’t seem fine. Still seem pretty pissed off about it. And y’know, rightly so.”

“Yeah, I suppose. But I’m working on it.”

For once, Gordon’s not using the tried and true ‘working on it’ line as a flimsy excuse to get someone off his back. It’s taken some work, but honestly, Gordon _has_ worked through most of the whole resonance cascade fiasco. At least the parts involving Benrey. His presence was quite literally like an old friend. If the little scuffles you got into with your “old friend” involved dismemberment and interdimensional travel. And if your “old friend” was more like an old mortal enemy. An old mortal enemy with whom you used to frequently engage in uncanny Schrodinger’s flirting with. Same difference. It’s complicated.

“I don’t think you get it. It’s not just that.”

“If this is about the whole… escape thing, I’m not mad. I’m not gonna ask what it was all about, but I’m sure none of us wanted it to go that way. We all did what we had to. Even if it wasn’t… great.”

“I still did it though, didn’t I.”

“It’s not like I gave you much of a chance.”

“Wouldn’t have taken it even if you did.”

“What?”

“You couldn’t leave if I didn’t do my job. So, I did. You made it easier. Even if you didn’t know what you were doing. Bein’ all mean to me n shit. Helped.”

“I… don’t really get it. Like I said before, I’m not gonna ask any more questions, and I don’t need explanations. It’s over. I know you sure seem sorry. Even if it’s not sorry in a normal human way.”

“Mmm. Yup. Checks out.” Benrey’s shifting around uncomfortably, like he’s seconds away from bolting. Old habits die hard. Neither of them are adjusting very well to not having the option to run away if they don’t feel like talking it out. All Black Mesa taught them was that they could, quite literally, run away from ninety nine percent of their problems and it'd work out just fine.

“You don’t seem to care too much when we’re fighting, right? And when we’ve fought in the past, neither of us were exactly _careful_ with each other. What’s the fuckin hang up now?” Gordon keeps coming across as a lot meaner than he intends. He chooses to blame it on the potion, but more likely, it’s just Benrey’s general presence. Sometimes the irritation felt good, but sometimes it sours into real frustration and anger.

“You’re so soft and squishy, bro. ‘Specially when you’re all cumbrained. Like you’re not even paying attention. Too horny to keep an eye on me, not even being careful or anything. I don’t like being the careful one.”

Gordon decides to show some mercy and not get on Benrey’s case about the “squishy” comment.

“It’s really nothing to be worried about. Sure, people might get hurt pretty easy compared to… uh?” Gordon draws a blank as to what to call Benrey, so he moves on quickly before it gets awkward. “Anyway, we’re delicate, but not _that_ delicate. You’ve seen how I react when we’re fighting and, uh. Yeah. Other stuff.” Gordon trails off lamely. Real mature, can’t even own up to having sex.

“Yeah, I get that. I’ve got the same deal. Made my whole ‘fit to blend in. Genuine replica. Got most things about right. Didn’t know how sensitive anything was supposed to be at first. Your… uh. Dream. Helped with some fine-tuning. Changed some stats, got it close to the same. Calibrated it pretty well, too. You didn’t seem to notice anything was off.”

“You can just change shit like that on a whim?” The gears in Gordon’s brain are grinding to a halt as he tries to comprehend how nerve endings, or their relative sensitivity, could be changed at will.

“Well, it takes focus. Not a lot. But some. It’s different from how I used to work. New junk. Weird looking. Takes a while to learn the… Controller layout?”

“Okay, call my dick weird looking. Fine. I bet I’d say the same about yours. Your real one, I mean.”

“I don’t really have a ‘real’ anything. I’m always changing. There wasn’t a first way I looked. Staying like this doesn’t take effort, it’s not like, uhhh… not like I’m gonna run out of juice and turn ‘back’ into a big scary monster or whatever you’re thinking. This is just how I am.”

“That makes absolutely no sense. But I’ll pretend I get it for brevity’s sake. Anyway, you’ve seen what we can and can’t handle, and I’m not stupid enough to not tell you if something hurts.”

“Still worried about it.”

“Benrey, if you _weren’t_ worried about hurting me, I’d be concerned. But you ARE worried, which means you don’t want to hurt me.”

“…Yeah. Just tryna watch it. Check myself before I wreck myself. Or you.”

“I _trust_ you, Benrey. Okay? And if you trust me too, then we’re good.”

“Really? Trust me?” the word _trust_ seems to flip a switch instantaneously in Benrey’s brain.

“Just said I did. How many times d’you have to hear it?”

“Still not gonna do it though. Nasty freak shit, that's what you're gettin' at, right? No thanksss.” as he trails the ‘s’ sound off with a hiss, the corners of Benrey’s mouth raise in his patented shit-eating grin. Business as usual, but in a good way this time.  
  
“ _“Freak shit”_? Oh, and tell me how everything we’ve done doesn’t also qualify for that title. What’s the line in the sand for you, man?”  
  
“Mmmm, line’s whatever I want. Anything you want’s over the line.”  
  
“Well, how concise. Thanks _soooo_ much for clearing that up for me.”  
  
“You’re welcome.”  
  
“Oh, don’t play coy with me.”  
  
“Hm?” Benrey's reveling in every second of their pointless little argument.  
  
“Don’t _”hm?”_ me either.”  
  
“Sorry. Not really getting it. Not picking up what you’re putting down. Not catching your drift, _friend_.”  
  
“Shut up, you were literally just pretending to know a minute ago.” Okay, skirting around the topic at hand is more fun when Gordon’s almost guaranteed a payoff at the end.  
  
“I know I don’t know. Seems like you’re the one who doesn’t know I don’t know.”  
  
“You never stop with shit like that, do you? When _I_ want to talk, _you_ never do, anything I say, you say the opposite, can’t you just let me have my way for once?” Gordon’s trying to contain his excitement, and he’s succeeding for the most part. He’s maintaining a sufficiently put-off tone, and hopefully looks at least a little cranky. And he’s facing Benrey from his spot in the entrance to the living room, so he can’t see Gordon’s tail wagging away. He’d be miserable at poker now, Gordon muses distantly.  
  
“Hmm-” Benrey makes a show of mockingly tapping his chin, pretending to think it over. “No.”  
  
“Don’t know what I expected.” Gordon rolls his eyes and crosses his arms in a cartoonish display of irritation and Benrey doesn’t acknowledge it whatsoever.  
  
“How about you let me have _my_ way for once?”  
  
“And what, pray tell, might that be.”  
  
“Redo of last night? New game plus maybe?” Benrey turns back around to sit facing forward on the couch and looks over his shoulder at Gordon expectantly.  
  
“You’re sooo fuckin lucky I’m in a good mood tonight.” Gordon grumbles as he makes his way over to the couch to kneel at Benrey’s feet.  
  
“This is a _good_ mood?”  
  
“Shut up or suck your own dick.”  
  
“You still game after your lil funtime in the shower?”  
  
Oh, right. There was no way for Benrey to know what was going on in the bathroom. Caught jacking off in the shower and he didn’t even finish. Gordon briefly considers lying, but there’s not much point.  
  
“Yeah, I'm game. I didn’t, uh. It didn’t work.”  
  
Benrey looks almost delighted. Which seems like a strange response to that statement.  
  
“Can’t get it up without ol Stong here? Awesome. Good to know.”  
  
“Not your name. And fucking hurry up, are you gonna keep me here all night?”  
  
“Impatient much? You gotta work on your banter, bro.” But Benrey still leans forward and laces his fingers through Gordon’s hair at the back of his head. Keeps his hands close to the scalp, more holding Gordon’s head than his hair.  
  
“You don’t need to avoid holding my ears, y’know.”  
  
“Yeah, but they’re cute. Don’t wanna un-fluff ‘em. Better angle like this anyway.”  
  
Gordon doesn’t have a response to that. He takes back all that stuff he thought about how blow drying his hair was a waste of time. And while Gordon kind of hates to admit it, his face is reddening _rapidly_ at being called cute. Is that a thing? It feels like a thing. At this point, he’s collecting more kinks than a crumpled-up pile of copper wire.  
  
“Still with me? You gotta tell me what you want, bro.”  
  
“Ah- Just fuck my mouth. Pretty much the same as last time, but for the most part, you’re the one moving me. I wouldn’t ask for something if I didn’t know I could handle it.”  
  
“Yeah? Don’t seem like you know how to suck. Do it pretty bad, I bet.”  
  
“Do you have some kind of memory problem?”  
  
“Mmm, no. I remember, and I stand by my statement.”  
  
“Really gonna say that to the guy who could bite your junk off?” Gordon flashes a toothy grin and turns his ears back a bit. He'd like to think it's an intimidating picture, but Benrey seems completely unaffected. As usual.  
  
“Not even if you TRIED, puppy.”  
  
“Guess we’ll find out if you ever get to the _point_ and let me _suck your dick already_.”  
  
“Hold your horses, don’t you know how to be _patient_?” Benrey tilts Gordon’s head up so they’re making eye contact.  
  
“I think you’ve got this backwards, that’s supposed to be my line. Traditionally, the dick sucker says something like that to the dick suckee”, Gordon snips back.  
  
“Yeah? Cause it looks like you’re just gagging for it already. Dunno about you, but I could stay like this all night.”  
  
To be fair, he's pretty on the mark with that one. Gordon’s already sporting a half chub and was just considering how he could start palming himself through his sweatpants without Benrey noticing.  
  
“And on that note, hands up here. Keep em where I can see em.”  
  
Well, Benrey successfully headed that one off at the pass.  
  
“ _Fine_ , now can we fucking PLEASE get started?”  
  
Patience is certainly a virtue that neither of them possess, and Benrey gives in, tilting his hips up so Gordon can yank his sweatpants off.  
  
“No boxers? That’s a move of either a very stupid man or a very brave man.”  
  
“Well, I’m not either of those. And now look who’s stalling. Tap if you want out or need a breather, okay?”  
  
“Got it” Gordon gives his jaw a little stretch and tries to calculate how many years it’s been since he’s done anything like this. “Do you want me to lead at first, or do you? Either way works.”  
  
“Nah, this one’s on me. Just relax. Oh, and say ‘aah’.”  
  
“What kind of fu-” Gordon’s rudely cut off mid-objection by Benrey’s dick shoving into his mouth.  
  
He gives Benrey a nasty stink eye, but doesn’t tap out, so Benrey just grins it off.  
  
Benrey’s taking it slow, keeping his thrusts shallow, giving Gordon plenty of time to acclimate and work up enough spit to make it go a bit smoother. Gordon decides to live up to his declaration of trust and close his eyes. Honestly, it’s mostly to focus on willing his gag reflex away, but y’know. The trust thing also applied.  
  
As Benrey picks up the pace a little, shoving Gordon deeper on his dick, it almost seems like he’s got this down to a science, lifting Gordon fully off for long enough for him to take a gasp of air at just the right times. Almost like he knows exactly how long humans can comfortably go without breathing. He probably does, doesn’t he? There’s no way he’s timing that on intuition alone.  
  
Oh, scratch that first part, Benrey _was_ being extremely polite. Past tense.  
  
Then he starts monologuing.  
  
“Always talking big about never getting your way, yeah right. I’m the one who never gets _my_ way. Makin shit hard for me, bein’ all cute. Do you even know how distracting you are? Always wavin’ your ass around, even if it was in that _stupid_ fucking suit, how am I s’posed to do my job when you’re walking around all “wahh help me I’m Gordon Freeman and I’m a lil crybaby who can’t do anything on my own, but I don’t want help from _Benrey_ , ’cause I wanna chose who can and can’t help me.” Never stopping with your lil leader schtick. And you get away with it all too, fuckin ridiculous. You just have to be top dog, even before it was literal. This is kinda fitting, don’t you think?”  
  
Strange that he’s so talkative. And so well composed. His big speech doesn’t seem to be distracting him at from maintaining a steady rhythm fucking up into Gordon’s mouth. At this rate, it’s starting to look like he’s gonna last longer than Gordon will. Not being able to continue their usual banter is weird, just having to sit there and take it… Hey, that works as a double entendre in this situation. Good one- oh. Benrey’s still talking. How long has this been now? Why isn’t he finishing faster like last time? Maybe there was less build-up than before, but something seems off. And he’s _still_ talking.  
  
“Ordering me around like you’re the _boss_ , d’you do that to everyone you meet? I bet you used to act different. Wish I knew you in college, bet you had a reputation as the campus cumslut, right? Tsh, sounds like you. Got all high and mighty after you graduated though, big smart science man now, aren’tcha? You’ve got the _right_ to boss people around, don’t you? Even have a lil piece of paper to back it up, got it framed and everything! But you wanna know what I think? Actually, what I _know_? You’re still the same ol Whoredon Freeman. I bet you’ve wanted this from the second you laid eyes on me. Don’t even have to tell me, I know it’s true-”  
  
Gordon taps twice on Benrey’s thigh, and he stops immediately, softening his grip on Gordon’s head and looking down at him quizzically. There’s practically a question mark floating next to him, like Gordon’s the weird one for wondering what the hell is going on.  
  
“Are you even feeling this? Sure you got everything right? ‘Cause I don’t think it’s normal to be as impassive about this as you’re being.” Gordon’s feeling more than a little miffed. Not to mention his jaw’s getting sore and he’d really like to pay some attention to his own dick. Benrey can’t expect him to keep this up all night, can he?  
  
“Mmh? Oh, I might’ve turned down the… uh. Joystick sensitivity. Don’t you get dramatic timing? One sec let me just-” Benrey closes his eyes and concentrates for a second before a fresh wave of color rolls over his face and he slumps back onto the couch with a reedy whine, sharply jerking Gordon up along with him.  
  
“Ah _hhht_ \- sorry.” Benrey lets go of Gordon’s head so he can resume a more relaxed kneeling position.  
  
“Its fine, are you good to, uh. Keep going?”  
  
“You do it, I’m- hh _hhck_ -” A few orbs of sweet voice slip out of Benrey’s mouth and float lazily across the room. He really is a wreck all of a sudden. Well, at least now Gordon knows it’s not because he’s bad at blowjobs.  
  
“Okay, I’m gonna. Uh. Keep goin.”  
  
Benrey gives a snappy little nod in response, but keeps his eyes squeezed shut.  
  
Gordon leans in and licks a broad stripe from base to tip, keeping his eyes trained on Benrey's face, mostly just to gauge his new reactions before he gets started in earnest, and Benrey practically wails.  
  
“Jesus, are you oka-”  
  
Aaand Gordon’s caught completely off-guard when Benrey just cums right then and there, spattering up the left side of Gordon’s face, and, unfortunately, into his hairline.  
  
“Ack- a little warning would be nice. Aw, man, it’s in my hair… now I need to take another shower.”  
  
“Guess it caught up to me. Sorry ‘bout that.” Benrey sounds out of breath and not particularly sorry, but at least he bothered to apologize.  
  
“Yeah, yeah. No problem.” Gordon winces and starts to pull up his t-shirt to wipe his face off.  
  
“Noooo, leave it.”  
  
“Hows this for a line in the sand; it’s gross. Let me clean up.”  
  
“Looks hot. I wanna see what you look like all fucked up. Wanna know I did that. Do what you want though.” Benrey pulls his pants back up and flops down horizontally on the couch, resting his head on his hand in a draw-me-like-one-of-your-French-girls-esque pose. It’s a strangely nonchalant vibe to put on the table after what he’d just said.  
  
“How do you- I mean, what should I… do?”  
  
“On second thought, I could just go to sleep and leave you here all night.” Benrey punctuates this with an exaggerated yawn.  
  
“That’d be an asshole move, even by your standards.”  
  
Benrey pouts for a second before his face lights up. Gordon knows that expression. He's got another idea.  
  
“Hey, how about you jack off and I watch. That sounds good.”  
  
He sounds so enthusiastic that Gordon's almost convinced on the spot. But he’s still gonna need a second to chew on that concept. Exhibitionism was never anywhere near his wheelhouse. It was several wheelhouses away. In another metaphorical wheelhouse state, in another metaphorical wheelhouse country, but suddenly it does sound like a rather promising idea, thank you very much. Before Gordon can share his little revelation, Benrey starts talking again.  
  
“Too chicken shit for it? How about this. I tell you what to do, and you do it. Wanna be a good boy and listen to me?”  
  
“Yeah. I’m in.”  
  
“Oh, and if you talk again, I’ll take that to mean you’re tapping out.”  
  
Gordon nods. Simple enough rules. He’s good with rules. When they match up with what he wants, at least.  
  
“Aw, sweet. Ok, stand up-” barely half a second after the words leave Benrey’s mouth, Gordon’s on his feet and waiting expectantly. No more fucking around, if they’re doing this, they’re doing it right. Go hard or go home. Gordon’s home, and go figure, he’s already plenty hard too.  
  
“There you go, was that so tough? Too bad I didn’t fuck some sense into you back at Black Mesa, maybe you’d’ve listened to me then.”  
  
Gordon opens his mouth to make some kind of witty rebuttal, but Benrey raises an eyebrow at him, and Gordon snaps his mouth closed with an almost audible click. Right. Rules.  
  
“That’s what I thought. Take two steps back.”  
  
Gordon’s already starting to feel like Benrey’s fucking with him, but he obliges. If shit goes south, he can always just leave.  
  
“Look at youuu, tail all wagging, that excited, huh? Anyway, pants off.”  
  
Subtlety never has been Benrey’s forte, and this is clearly the logical next step, but Gordon’s already starting to get a little sweaty.  
  
Nobody likes a quitter though, so Gordon does as he's told and wiggles out of his sweatpants, kicking them off to the side once they're off.  
  
Then he waits.  
  
And waits.  
  
And waits.  
  
…Oh fuck. Maybe this isn’t in his wheelhouse after all. Every second that ticks by without Benrey saying anything, Gordon gets more and more jittery and uncertain. Just standing idly in the middle of his living room and having his dick stared at like he’s in a museum doesn’t feel _great_.  
  
“Just appreciating the view. Calm down. Take a deep breath and roll your shoulders.”  
  
Gordon does a couple shoulder rolls and tries to focus on his breathing. For once, it works, and he’s feeling a little more centered now. Too bad Benrey wasn’t there to talk him out of his little episode in the shower.  
  
“Okay, good. You’re doing great. Boxers off, kneel down like before.”  
  
No problem. It’s not like this is the first time Benrey’s seen his dick. Despite that, as he kneels down, Gordon instinctively folds his hands in his lap. Benrey notices and gives a disappointed frown.  
  
“Hm. Hands _out_ of your lap and behind your back please?” Benrey’s tone is starting to sound like a bored photographer instructing people to stay in-frame, but he’s watching Gordon’s every move with rapt attention, like he’s trying to get the perfect pose to commit to memory.  
  
“Spread your thighs more. I know you can go wider than that.”  
  
Yeah, Gordon considers himself slightly more flexible than your average Joe, but he’s not a fucking gymnast, and he’s not about to pull a muscle and call it a night. Benrey clearly notices the annoyed twitch in Gordon's face as he adjusts his legs to a more comfortable sitting position.  
  
“Ok, ok, I get it. That’s fine. Been good for me tonight so far, so tell ya what. You can touch yourself now. Waited for long enough.”  
  
About damn time, Gordon’s had this boner for so long it’s starting to hurt a bit, so the friction from his hand feels like heaven. For a few seconds. Until Benrey chimes in with another ‘helpful’ pointer.  
  
“Go _slower_ , it’s not the Olympics, bro. Put some showmanship into it, take notes from me.”  
  
Oh, he wants a show? Gordon’s gonna give him a fucking show alright. He’s followed instructions fine to this point, he’s earned some creative liberties.  
  
Leaning back slightly on his left arm to get a better angle, Gordon slows his movements a bit and tries his absolute damndest to relax enough to really _moan_ for once. He usually doesn't make a point of being vocal, but what can he say, he’s feeling performative today.  
  
Best word to describe what he's going for would be straight up debauched. Or at least as close as a weird, awkward, 27-year-old who just so happens to have a tail and little dog ears can get to debauched. Either way, Gordon’s really putting his back into this one.  
  
Just as a little extra touch, Gordon makes a show of licking a bit of Benrey’s cum off the side of his face. And keeps it in the front of his mind to maintain eye contact. Eye contact’s always the clincher. And it seems to have clinched again, because Benrey’s stunned into silence for a few seconds. He recovers quickly though.  
  
“Heyyy, that’s more like it. Knew you'd be good at this. Keep going.” Benrey definitely seems impressed that he’s putting this much effort into it. And it always feels good to impress. Though not long at a pace like that, and his breath’s getting shaky. It's too hard to keep eye contact at this point, so Gordon lets his head fall back and really let the little vocalizations pour out of him.  
  
“God, you’re cute like this. Too bad you can’t see how cute you are right now.” Benrey sounds almost reverent.  
  
The way _those_ words in _that_ tone were the final straw probably says something about Gordon’s psyche that he's going to have a bitch of a time working through. Luckily for him, it’s hard to psychoanalyze yourself when you’re otherwise occupied blowing a fat fucking load on your own chest and gasping out your roommate’s name.  
  
As Gordon's catching his breath, he's starting to seriously consider just laying down right here and going to sleep. This is his apartment, after all. Nobody to stop him. He’s already made peace with it. The carpet's not all that uncomfortable.  
  
“Kinda cheated at the end there. Said my name? Gonna have to deduct points from your final score.”  
  
“Points?” Gordon blinks blearily up at Benrey, who's now standing over him, looking pleased as the biggest, toothiest bowl of punch in the world.  
  
“Figure of speech. C’mon boy, we’re going to bed.”  
  
As Benrey scoops him up again, Gordon can’t help but to feel a little deceptive for playing up being so tired. While he is a _little_ sleepy, it’s not like he couldn’t just get up and go to bed himself. Benrey doesn’t seem to mind, though. All evidence to the contrary, actually, judging by how he basically jumps at the opportunity to pick Gordon up and carry him to the guest bedroom.  
  
Depositing Gordon on the bed, Benrey makes quick work of pulling Gordon’s shirt over his head and tossing it on the floor. Gordon just lays back on the bed uselessly and stares at the ceiling. Well, his work here is done.  
  
“Hey. You still awake?”  
  
“I wouldn't be if you weren't talking right now.”  
  
“Whatever. You want some uhh…” Benrey taps his throat “Sweet voice? Heal beam?”  
  
“Actually, y’know what? Sure. Sounds good right about now.”  
  
“Nice. Say ‘aah’.”  
  
“You already said th-”  
  
This time, he’s interrupted by Benrey leaning down and pressing his mouth onto his. It’s more of an open-mouthed CPR technique than a kiss, but it’ll do. The couple spheres of sweet voice Benrey sings into Gordon’s mouth are small, and pop like they were being held together by surface tension alone. It’s some kind of blue raspberry and apple-adjacent flavor this time. Goes down like thin jello, the texture you'd get if you didn't let it set for long enough before you ate it.  
  
Benrey backs up with a very self-satisfied look on his face, and almost immediately after Gordon swallows the sweet voice, the dull ache in his legs and jaw starts to fade.  
  
“Working?”  
  
“Yeah, working fine. It’s not gonna do anything weird to me, right?”  
  
“No. And don’t wipe your face on my sheets.” With that, Benrey heads out of the room, presumably to get something to clean up with. Right. Gordon does still have cum on his face, doesn’t he.  
  
Gordon dangles his legs over the edge of the bed and lets his thoughts trickle back into coherence. Should he go and grab his boxers from the living room? That feels like the polite thing to do instead of just lying there, ass out and doing nothing about it. But he’s too mentally and physically worn out to care. And besides, Benrey’s already back. That was fast.  
“Here y’ go.” Benrey tosses a washcloth at Gordon, clearly expecting him to catch it, but he’s not ready for it, and it lands on his face with a splat.  
  
“Thanks, but I don’t own any washcloths. Where’d you get this.” Kind of unsettling that Benrey seemingly manifested a washcloth, but it’s a nice gesture.  
  
“Huh?”  
  
“I don’t know why I bothered to mention it.”  
  
As Gordon wipes his face off, he hates to admit it, but Benrey was in the right to suggest cleaning up. Gordon’s habit of leaving problems for himself to deal with later might work fine in the moment, but never in the long run. The long run in this case being tomorrow morning.  
  
“Got these too, if you want ‘em.” Benrey drops Gordon’s boxers on the bed and goes to turn off the lamp in the corner.  
  
“Oh, thanks.” Gordon wastes NO time pulling them on and getting under the sheets. He’s completely tuckered out, and in this moment, doesn't want anything as much as he wants to fall asleep.  
  
After turning the light off, Benrey gets in the other side of his bed, and stays there. Uh oh. Why isn't he initiating a cuddle.  
  
“Everything okay? Why d’you always get all distant like this.”  
  
“ _"Always"_ is a bit of a stretch, but I need breaks. My brain’s not built for-” Benrey gestures between the two of them “-this. Tires me out.”  
  
Gordon feels kind of stupid for not thinking of that possibility sooner. Man, he was really wrapped up in his own neuroses. Too bad he can’t live in a constant state of post-nut clarity.  
  
“D’you think you could, I dunno, get used to it? Gradually, I mean.”  
  
“Not sure. It’s hard.”  
  
“Can you try? For me?”  
  
“Now I’m gonna look like the asshole if I say no, so sure.”  
  
“Thanks. Even if you're just saying that, it… uh. Means a lot to me.”  
  
“Yeah, yeah, bring it in, pal.”  
  
Gordon rolls onto his side so he’s face to face with Benrey. Well, Gordon’s a little smaller, so it’s more face to chest. Which Benrey wastes no time in mentioning.  
  
“Lookin at my tits, bro?”  
  
“Just go to sleep.”  
  
Benrey makes a sound that reasonably approximates a laugh and pulls him a little closer, tucking Gordon’s head under his chin.  
  
If Gordon stays still, he can feel the gentle flutter of Benrey’s pulse against his forehead. It’s nice. Makes his stomach do a different kind of flip, not sickening or nerve-wracking or boner-inducing for once.  
  
Funny how these things go.  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you had a nice new years! I spent mine being tortured by accursed visions which forced me to rewrite parts of this about 500 times, and in the process it got a bit longer than the other chapters... Que sera sera.


	7. Meet You Halfway

Gordon blinks awake already entrenched in that terrible, discontented, sweaty morning feeling. The sheets are hanging off the side of the bed, and he’s got a nagging suspicion that he just woke up from some awful dream, unsettling remnants still clinging to the edges of his memory.  
  
Benrey’s still there, and he must’ve rolled over in his sleep too, because half of his clammy torso is plastered to Gordon’s chest.  
  
Goes without saying that Gordon’s not gonna stay here until Benrey wakes up, but extricating himself is a feat in and of itself. After about a minute of alternating between trying to wriggle out and shove Benrey off of him, Gordon gives Benrey a sharp poke in the side.  
  
“There’s no fucking way you’re still asleep, now move before I suffocate.”  
  
Benrey’s eyes open almost imperceptibly, and when he doesn’t immediately respond any more than that, Gordon’s starting to think he’s not going to move, but Benrey rolls off him without further complaint.  
  
As soon as Gordon gets up and starts his (overly performative) morning stretch, he’s stopped by a twinge in his lower back.  
  
“Euhh… I think I janked up my back”, Gordon mumbles, lowering his arms with a pained hiss.  
  
“What’s up with that.”  
  
Well, Gordon didn't ask for a commentary track, but Benrey just had to say something in the most dismissive tone possible, didn't he.  
  
“Hm, I dunno. Last night, _probably_.” Admittedly, he could’ve turned down the snark a little, but that's probably just the morning tiredness talking.  
  
“Didn’t know you were that out of shape.” Benrey’s eyes are still just barely open. Almost more annoying than if they were completely closed.  
  
“I’m not “ _out of shape_ ”, I just think I went a bit overboard.”  
  
“Maybe you shouldn’t have.”  
  
“Maybe _you_ shouldn’t have, man.”  
  
Okay, deep breath. He’s getting too snippy. Y’know what? Gordon signed up for this. Even before Benrey had moved into his apartment, hell, even before the catastrophe on Xen, there was something off about him. A lot of things, actually. And Gordon was the dunce who still fell for him, so he’s gonna work this.  
  
“How you were talking last night, sounded like you liked it? And I liked it too, so it’s fine.”  
  
Look, communication! He’s setting proper expectations, right? Place emphasis on both of them being okay with it. They _are_ both okay with it, right? Right?  
  
“If you liked it, why’re you complaining right now.”  
  
Fair.  
  
“I’m just- it’s more complicated than that. I liked it, yeah, but you could’ve done some things better.”  
  
Benrey opens his eyes a little wider just to squint across the room at Gordon.  
  
“What is this, fuckin tripadvisor?”  
  
“Okay, I’ll clarify-” be mature. Remember, Benrey doesn’t seem to ‘get’ it. “It’s not… just that. You ask what I want and, like. I want what you want.” Gordon feels like smacking himself.  
  
“Right back atcha.”  
  
“You do know that we can’t go back and forth like this forever, right?”  
  
“I can.”  
  
Gordon opens his mouth to throw out another poorly thought through response, but Benrey keeps talking.  
  
“You say shit like “auhhh do what _you_ want, Benrey. I trust youuu” then you start in on tellin me what I want isn’t good enough or that I did it wrong. But I _asked_. I asked _you_ what you want, and all you give’s stupid little hints. Always lookin for the best of both worlds? Boss me around when you want, but expect me to know what to do when you don’t? Try playing nice for _real_ , doggy, not just pretending.” Benrey hops out of bed and pulls a shirt and pair of sweatpants from… Huh? From where? There weren’t sweatpants, then there was.  
  
Not what Gordon should be focusing on right now.  
  
“…You don’t just mean last night, do you.”  
  
Not a question. He knows the answer. And Benrey knows he knows.  
  
“You’re worse at this than I am.”  
  
Benrey doesn’t sound mad. He sounds kind of amused, in fact.  
  
Sometimes… actually, most of the time, inaction is better than whatever counterproductive shit Gordon opts for. It must be pretty refreshing for Benrey to be better at a human behavior than an actual human. He’s the normal one for once. Ugh. The bad kind of embarrassment is making itself known in full force. Gordon’s a little more awake now, and all of this seems sickeningly familiar.  
  
Benrey imitates Gordon’s arms-over-the-head stretch, and heads into the kitchen without another word. Gordon trails dejectedly after him, trying to think of something to say that’ll somehow communicate that yes, he is aware that he did just pull a real asshole move. And _has_ been pulling asshole moves.  
  
…And may occasionally pull an asshole move in the future, despite trying to work on it.  
  
Wait, why’s Benrey going for the front door? Is he gonna leave in socks and sweats like it’s the most normal thing in the world?  
  
Benrey closes the door behind him with a click, and by the time Gordon opens it up again and pokes his head out, Benrey’s gone. And he’s not down the short hallway to the right. Or left. Or the stairs. Or waiting for an elevator. Where did he GO? Must be making full use of his weird disappearing tricks again. Damn. Just when they were both starting to get better at not bailing out of conversations, too.  
  
Awesome. Gordon’s alone in the apartment just like that. Fucking peachy.  
  
\---  
  
Unsupervised, Gordon almost immediately slips back into one of his go-to brooding environments. Some channel that airs stupid shows that he's seen a million times, and a party sized bag of cheetos. The irony is certainly not lost on Gordon as he plops down on the couch and starts snacking away. Nobody around to care that it’s barely past noon. He’s a party of one.  
  
_crunch_  
  
So what. Maybe Benrey doesn’t get what Gordon wants all the time.  
  
_crunch_  
  
Not like that’s new, to be honest, Gordon’s fairly sure that most of his past romantic forays had ended due to some kind of similar communication breakdown.  
  
_crunch_  
  
Probably on his part.  
  
_crunch_  
  
He’s always been a team leader, always considered himself pretty good at it, too.  
  
_crunch_  
  
He really could stand to work on his one-on-one communication skills.  
  
_crunch_  
  
Should, not could.  
  
_cr-_  
  
Enough cheetos. His mouth’s starting to get dry and they don’t taste good anymore. That counts as breakfast, right?  
  
Gordon just simmers there on the couch for a few hours, letting the drone of whatever mindless sitcom was on placate his brain for the time being. The only comforting thought is that Benrey used to do this all the time. This is normal. He’ll be back soon.

Oh! He should text Darnold. That’s something to do!  
  
_“hey. just checking in on that reversal potion?”_  
  
The “read” notification pops up almost immediately, but after staring blankly at his otherwise unresponsive phone for… probably too long, Gordon tosses it onto the couch next to him with a sigh and picks up the ps3 controller. Not doing any good to look at a tiny screen all day. Better to stare at a larger screen. GTA is productive. Maybe not ‘doing the dishes’ or ‘laundry’ levels of productive but he’s not just sitting here. Look, he’s just blowing through these story missions.

Gordon’s been slacking on laundry since it stopped being such a requirement to hide the shirts. And whether Benrey was unable, or, more likely, unwilling, to do his own laundry, his was getting done a lot less often too. A little hidden part of Gordon’s brain enjoys the more concentrated “Benrey smell” a little too much. But he’s not doing it on _purpose_.  
  
Definitely not on purpose.  
  
Hold on. _Is_ he doing this on purpose?  
  
He should go do some chores.  
  
Gordon sluggishly washes the pile of dishes in the sink (not many, his diet mostly consists of cereal, miscellaneous snacks, and takeout), and after that, he finally bites the bullet and starts up the washing machine. Have to do it sooner or later.  
  
Well. That’s all the chores there is to do, right? Simple man with simple needs. That means he can get back to what’s important here. GTA.  
  
Monotony only interrupted by the buzz of the dryer; Gordon feels pretty damn content. Look at all the functional shit he got done today! Two whole things and he didn’t even let himself get trapped in the wretched hellscape of his brain.  
  
Sometime around midnight, Gordon gets up and scarfs down a ziploc bag of two-day-old fried rice, and promptly returns to the couch. But as the clock ticks toward 3 am, he decides it’s probably wise to give up the ghost and go to bed. Gordon’s not gonna stay up to be greeted with accusations of being a fretful little housewife. He’s not worried. Well, not worried for Benrey’s safety at least. More worried for the safety of any small animals Benrey happened across. Or people. Maybe it wasn’t a great idea to let him go with such little fuss. All Gordon can do now is hope he knows better than to start wreaking havoc on the general populace.  
  
\---  
  
After doing his trite little ablutions, Gordon’s faced with decision as he heads for bed. He could go to his room, that’d be the… right thing to do. There’s only one objectively correct answer in this situation.  
  
Or…  
  
Benrey’s room is his too, technically. It’s in Gordon’s house. Sleeping in someone else’s bed might not be a great roommate behavior, but everything about this situation’s already so severely fucked up, it’s not as if another minor overstep of boundaries is going to hurt anything much more.  
  
Hopping onto Benr- _his_ bed, actually, Gordons tail involuntarily gives a little shiver. He does have the whole house to himself tonight. Guess he should enjoy it, get snuggled in with his head propped up between both pillows. It feels way too nice to lay starfished under the sheets. Different than it felt in his bed. Maybe it was the mattress texture.  
  
There's that same old thought making itself known. Do _not_ huff your roommate’s pillows like a 7th grader who just learned you can get high off sharpies.  
  
Actually, who is he kidding? Benrey’s gone! What’s the point of _not_ doing it if you want to? Laying facedown on a pillow might raise suspicion if there was someone watching, but there _isn't_.  
  
Only coming up for air when he really needs it, Gordon’s absolutely blissed out. Just being able to relax and soak it in feels way too nice. No Benrey to distract him, just absolutely chilling out.  
  
Until he gives himself half a second to remember why Benrey was gone in the first place and a massive wave of guilt washes over him.  
  
So much for enjoying being alone.  
  
His apartment feels so… _bad_ without Benrey in it. Even when Benrey was holed up in his room, Gordon knew he was _there_.  
  
This sucks.  
  
Maybe it was a bit of a stretch to expect Benrey to know what was up. Teasing’s fun but it really doesn’t work for a relationship to be completely based on witty back and forth “conversation”.  
  
Hold on. Was this a relationship? Gordon starts to tick through a checklist. Were they friends? …Tough question to start on. Let’s just mark that as a strong “sometimes” and move on. Sex? Yeah. Living together? Yep. Love? Were they in love? Gordon doesn’t… think he’s in love. And the chances of Benrey knowing what that is feel pretty damn small.  
  
Though, to play Devil’s advocate for a moment, let’s say Gordon is in love. Let’s say those flutters are more than just the presence of a person you have a little… puppy crush on. Even if this is the case, Benrey doesn’t seem like the type to reciprocate… Not that Gordon would know. He hasn’t tried. What if Benrey _is_ the type to reciprocate and Gordon’s fucking this up by not saying anything? And on the other hand, if Benrey’s _not_ the type to reciprocate, Gordon would fuck up this whole arrangement by saying something.  
  
Now Gordon’s just making himself more and more mad. Benrey’s not in love with him and he’s not in love with Benrey. Fuck this, fuck Benrey, fuck everything. Gordon just bitterly wishes that Benrey would come back. He’s not tired anymore, and if Benrey just wanted to be roommates with benefits, he’d like some fucking benefits right about now.  
  
He’s gonna be back soon. He has to come back. This is his home too. Where else could he stay?  
  
He could probably just fuck right off to some other dimension though, couldn’t he? Benrey doesn’t really _need_ anything. Gordon's willing to bet that Benrey could kick it in Antarctica without a coat and be completely fine. Like the thing. This train of thought is doing the opposite of calming him down, for multiple reasons.  
  
\---  
  
Just as his cyclical thoughts are starting to trail off, Gordon jolts back to attention at a faint sound from out in the kitchen.  
  
Was that the door? It sounded a bit like the latch clicking… Did he not lock the door?  
  
Footsteps. He didn’t lock the fucking door. Gordon tenses and gets ready to jump out of bed before remembering, _duh_ , it’s probably Benrey.  
  
…What if it’s not though. It sure would be ironic if someone broke into his house tonight of all nights. Sure would be ironic if someone was in his house unplugging his tv right now.  
  
_His_ house. Who the fuck’s in _HIS_ house. Admittedly not really the problem that should be prioritized in Gordon’s mind, but the risk of physical harm feels distant compared to the possibility that someone’s here. Someone that’s _not_ Benrey. Someone who smells different. Gordon fucking _hates_ how strangers smell. His trips to the grocery store were a real sensory hell now. Cologne too strong, overpowering body wash, unfamiliar laundry detergent, and that baseline smell everyone had underneath all of that, no matter how hard they tried to hide it… All wrong, wrong, _wrong_. No way was any of that shit coming into his home. Just the thought makes him bristle angrily.  
  
It’s fine, he can head this off at the pass. Deep breath. Make a ruckus when you open the door. Throw out a gun threat. Keep your hands low. The light behind you is gonna cast enough of a shadow that they won’t be sure, and nobody in their right mind would risk calling your bluff. This is a good plan.  
  
Trying to keep the element of surprise, Gordon slides out of bed and pads over to the lamp, flicking it on as quietly as possible. No time like the present. 3, 2, 1, go.  
  
Shoving the door open and letting it bang against the wall, Gordon tries to put on his best show of intimidation. It’s not hard, he’s already all worked up, so his ears are flat against his head and that increasingly familiar snarl-y edge is making itself known in full force.  
  
“I’ve got a gun, so you better get the fuck out r-”  
  
Gordon’s greeted by two perfect yellow circles floating at the far side of the living room, but thankfully, his pupils adjust to the lower light fast enough for him to comprehend what he’s seeing before he flips out even more.  
  
“Hhholy shit Benrey, you almost gave me a heart attack.”  
  
Benrey doesn’t say anything, just keeps standing there, eyes shining in a distinctly not normal way. Well, not normal for a human. Pretty normal by Benrey standards.  
  
Gordon flicks on the light and sits down in the middle of the hallway with a wheeze, trying to reorganize his thoughts. All this adrenaline would be helpful in an actual life-or-death scenario, but it’s significantly less handy when you’re just freaked out over your weird roommate.  
  
“Wassat really your plan?”  
  
“What? Was what my plan?" So much for being fast on the uptake.  
  
“Running out here like that? What if it wasn’t me? What then?” Benrey tilts his head just a little too far too the left. That would definitely mean a broken neck in a person, but least in the light he looks less abjectly terrifying now. Eyes back to normal and he hasn't resorted to making mocking noises, but he’s still idling in the living room and looking unusually contemplative.  
  
Seeing Benrey actively _thinking_ is more disquieting than his fucked up eyes were.  
  
After all, this one is on Gordon, he should be the one thinking.  
  
Fuck. He should do something about this, shouldn’t he.  
  
…Or he could take the night to unwind a bit and do this tomorrow. More time to think’s never a bad thing.  
  
“Well. I’m heading back to bed. See ya later.” Gordon stands up and starts to shy towards his bedroom door.  
  
“Nah, hold on. I get it.”  
  
“Get…? What are you talking about?” Consider his attention piqued.  
  
“What you want, why you’re always all cranky. Why you won’t tell me shit. Maybe let’s stop being all weird about feelings and shit and take it as it comes. Stop actin’ up.”  
  
“ _“Stop acting up”_? Are you fucking kidding me? What else is there to do? I’m not gonna start shoving everything down again just because it’s easier for you.”  
  
“Not what I mean. You just shouldn’t try to force it. Gonna think too hard ‘n hurt your lil brain.”  
  
Gordon feels like he’s going to have a conniption.  
  
“You _are_ just fucking around, aren’t you? I knew it, of course _you_ would do this.”  
  
“Calm down please?”  
  
Benrey closes the distance between them while Gordon's preoccupied with fuming and places a hand flat on Gordon's head. Despite his conscious efforts, Gordon's tail starts to lower into a more relaxed position.  
  
“Why’s it always gotta be something with you? We’re friends, bro.”  
  
Gordon closes his eyes and counts to ten.  
  
"Friends. Is that what we are?"  
  
"Yup. Always have been, bro."  
  
"What does that entail, exactly." No room for miscommunication. Figure this stupid little puzzle out right now.  
  
"All sortsa stuff."  
  
"That's not a very good answer."  
  
"Friends is a..." Benrey takes a second to find the right word, "a position open for promotions."  
  
'Open for promotions' puts pretty much none of Gordon's long-term worries to rest, but it does solve _all_ of his short-term worries related to their current god damn position. He could deal with the future in the future.  
  
“Glad we got that cleared up. Nnnnnnice talking with you. G’nite.” Gordon awkwardly steps away from Benrey, who had been keeping his hand on Gordon's head this whole time, apparently.  
  
“Come here please?” Suddenly, benrey's voice is coming from behind Gordon.  
  
When did Benrey get over there? He's standing in the doorway to his room, and that means he'd've had to go... past... Gordon... to get there? ...Not important.  
  
“Whuh? Why?”  
  
“Gotta calm you down.”  
  
“I don’t need to be “calmed down”, man.” Gordon starts to walk over to Benrey's room regardless, tail starting to wag slowly.  
  
“C’mon bro lay on top of me, I dare you.” Benrey backs into the small room and flops down in bed, patting his chest expectanly.  
  
“No! I’m a- I’ll fuckin crush you?”  
  
“Oh? Y’think so?” Benrey’s voice is practically _dripping_ with sarcasm.  
  
“Fine. But it’s on you when you can’t breathe in a couple seconds.”  
  
..They chose just about the most uncomfortable position imaginable; Gordon’s laying partially draped across Benrey’s chest like the world’s worst weighted blanket, but contact’s contact, he supposes, and Gordon's already pretty much resigned to sleep like this.  
  
“We’re _both_ kind of shit at this, aren’t we?”  
  
Something about the way Benrey says that, like he’s barely holding back a laugh, like the two of them laying uncomfortably piled up in a dark room is just the _funniest shit in the world to him_ cracks Gordon up immediately. Which makes Benrey start laughing too.  
  
That little feedback loop continues until, before Gordon knows it, he’s out of breath and sporting a wicked stitch in his side. It’s all so stupid in such a perfect way.  
  
“ahHAh- Get the fuck off me, c’mon.” Benrey flips Gordon off of him and tugs him down so he's curled against his side.  
  
As Gordon's hiccupping laughter starts to trail off and he snuggles closer in next to Benrey again, Gordon decides that taking it as it comes might not be so bad.  



End file.
